


Burned, about to burn, still on fire

by Jean____Ralphio



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, BDSM, Bathtub!Sex, Bondage, CEO!Gabriel, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, F/M, M/M, Massage!sex, Not hunters, Sex Toys, Top Gabriel/Bottom Sam Winchester, but the Winchesters are still con-artists, desk!sex, just all the sex OK, kind of a stripper au but also not, kind of sugar daddy au but also not, shower!sex, waiter!sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 66,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jean____Ralphio/pseuds/Jean____Ralphio
Summary: Sam has been noticing this one guy at the club's bar for months and is desperate to get over his nerves and strike up a conversation with him.Living in San Francisco and surviving on tips from his waiter's job at a strip club was only supposed to be temporary; a disguise while Sam hid from his family and worked to shed his past life of fraud, scams and petty crime. If he could just get accepted into Stanford and get on with his life, he might finally be free of his past.But what follows from finally meeting bar-guy is anything but temporary.Sam falls head-over-heels for Gabriel and in the space of a few days has moved into his gigantic mansion, been happily accepted by his dog, and found actual happiness in the process. But what he can't stop is his lies, because he has to keep his fake identity intact and his past buried.Gabriel has no idea that he calls Sam by a false name, is living with a complete liar, or that out there somewhere the family that Sam fled are hunting for him.And it's only a matter of time before the Winchesters track him down.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Jo Harvelle/Benny Lafitte
Comments: 43
Kudos: 38
Collections: Gabriel Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guys.
> 
> This fic was born from two facts.  
> 1 is that Richard Speight Jr is <3  
> 2 is that Sam Winchester is a bottom, come @ me on Tumblr if you want an essay long rant about why (@jean----ralphio)
> 
> This work was such a team effort to produce, and so so so many amazing people ran their eye over it, beta'ed it, cheerleaded for it... I can't thank everyone enough for the encouragement, help and support. I am so grateful to you.
> 
> The mods for the Gabriel Big Bang, Daddy Levi and Emblue are absolute angels, and the entire discord crew were so wonderful that I don't have the words.
> 
> Thank you so much as ever to my parabatai @whosthathufflepuff, without whom I would be nothing.
> 
> And finally all the rest of my endless love and thanks go to lotrspnfangirl_graphics for making me cry a billion times with how seriously wonderful and kind and supportive she is <3 Her art is incredible and I am so honoured to have been paired with her <3 
> 
> Her amazing art is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29954907  
> I will work on embedding ASAP (AKA once I've learnt how).

For the third time in as many days, the guy – as in, _the guy_ – was back. It took all Sam had not to dump the tray he was carrying and go rushing over to him, but Jo would have his head for ruining the margaritas she’d just prepared.

Yet, Sam couldn’t help the thrill of pleasure that shivered through him when he caught sight of the almost-golden-eyed man nursing a glass of whiskey at his usual seat at the bar. His back was to the room, but Sam knew the sweep of his brown-blonde hair, and the line of those shoulders almost intrinsically.

Up until then Sam had been feeling grumpy and tired – the new-born baby in the apartment next door didn’t like to sleep at night, but by God did she like to scream – so he’d only had a few broken hours of shut-eye the night before. 

But now, knowing that _the guy_ was here, well, now he felt a lot better. Over the few months that the guy had been coming to the club, Sam had taken more and more of an interest in him, gotten that little bit more of a buzz each time he spotted the familiar jacket, the smile, the raised eyebrow is his direction.

And tonight, Sam was absolutely buzzing with excitement, because tonight he was ready, resolved, a man on a mission.

Tonight, he was going to try and have an actual _conversation_ with the guy.

Bar-guy, as Sam typically called him in his head, always sat in the same spot, back to the stage, never looking at the dancers. Sam had been surprised once he had realised that; honestly, who came to a strip club and paid absolutely no attention to the strippers?

Sure, bar-guy always chattered away happily with Jo and Pam, the bartenders, and with Ash, who usually haunted the vicinity of alcohol at any given location. He paid cursory attention to Benny, the club’s security guard, and to Sam’s fellow waiters Kevin and Garth. Overall, he hadn’t seemed interested in anyone, which had only served to intensify Sam’s curiosity and fascination; why was he here?

The alcohol was the standard selection available at any bar (and was overpriced, to boot); the music was… well… reflective of the location; the atmosphere was fine, rowdy and amped but not sleazy… nothing stood out to Sam that could answer his question of what bar-guy wanted, why he kept coming several nights of every week just to sit and ignore the dancers. All bar-guy did was drink, chat and flick his eyes about the room occasionally, as if searching for someone.

Then Sam had finally figured it out a few weeks ago, and had gotten hot all over once he realised.

The person bar-guy only ever really looked out for, smiled at, quirked his eyebrows to, was _Sam_.

And sure enough, bar-guy was watching him right now, the usual crooked, soft smile he reserved for Sam in place, amber eyes intense over the rim of his whiskey tumbler.

Sam’s heartrate picked up in excitement, but he tried not to let his delight show too obviously, as he shepherded margaritas from his tray onto the table in front of him. He slid the drinks carefully to the college-age girls on the other side of the booth, ignoring the way they giggled and nudged each other as they eyed his biceps. He offered them a quick, polite smile as he straightened up, which only seemed to increase the pitch of their giggling; Sam didn’t care, though.

His gaze was already locked back on the man at the bar.

The thing was, Sam and bar-guy had never actually spoken, not once in the three month or so since Sam had first noticed him – not that he was counting.

OK, so he was counting.

Whatever.

Unfortunately, Sam was always too rushed off his feet (and slightly shy if he was being honest), to ever make it over to the guy and introduce himself. He _wanted_ to, but between clearing tables, ferrying drinks about, and dodging the wandering hands of patrons, he had never once managed it. He would always get called away by a colleague or pounced on by a patron – several times quite literally. Plucking up the courage in conjunction with having the time to have an actual conversation with bar-guy always seemed to allude him.

But not tonight. Not tonight. Sam was determined. No patrons, no co-workers, not the place burning down around them or the tiredness hurting his eyes was going to stop Sam tonight… he stifled a yawn into his elbow as he left the margarita girl’s table.

In addition to being overworked, Sam was almost permanently tired, in no small part due to stress – and the baby girl next door. A haze of exhaustion settled over him most days, which made his reactions slower, his thoughts duller. Being hunted would do that to a person, drain their clarity, their strength. Sam felt constantly wary, constantly on guard… but he _had_ to be. He had to keep watch. He had to keep safe. He had to protect himself from the danger he knew was coming for him, always pursuing him.

_Eyes open, stay alert, don’t let your guard down, trust no one_ … Sam still shared those beliefs with the men who had raised him, even though they were the ones that were chasing him down like the prey he was.

He couldn’t have picked a less conspicuous location to hide out in, though – it would never occur to them to look in a place like this, he was sure.

Sam’s workplace – ‘Kings of Hell’, a popular male strip club in San Francisco – was about as fancy as such an establishment could ever hope to be. The surcharge at the door never seemed to put off the patrons, and the club had the headcount and revenue every night to prove it. The décor was tasteful enough, and most importantly, the place was clean – from the bar along the length of the side wall, to the tables and booths that dotted the room, to the stage itself – everything was high class.

Well, not so high class that there weren’t private rooms in their own wing off to the other side of the club, set aside for the more… explicit activities on offer to the clientele...

Sam tried to fade into the background most nights – he wasn’t one of the strippers, just waited tables and kept the place clean, so he tended to keep as far from the stage as he could to avoid attracting anyone’s interest. His usual trick was to never stop moving, to let the neon lights, the men on the stage, and the thumping bass of the music attract as much attention away from him as possible, so that he could be gone from one spot before anyone got much of a look at him. An old tactic he’d been taught as a child, it had proved useful.

But bar-guy… Sam wanted _his_ attention.

The guy always smiled when Sam walked past, in a way that made his pulse stutter as an uncontrollably dopey grin spread over his face. He also looked at Sam’s face more so than any other part of his body, which was rare, especially as far too much of him was usually on display.

And Sam wasn’t ashamed that he noticed the guy in return. There was something undeniably attractive about bar-guy’s entire aura and general being that always caught Sam’s eye and made him grin, made Sam want to be near him.

As Sam approached the bar, he felt his hands start to sweat in anticipation at the opportunity to maybe, _finally_ , talk to bar-guy. Cause, yeah, the long looks and smirks they kept sending each other from opposite sides of the room were great and all, but Sam really wanted to hear his voice, really wanted to get within touching distance.

Really wanted to touch.

When he reached the bar, Sam slid his empty drinks tray back across the polished wood counter to Pam, then turned to finally face the guy, who looked far too good in a simple black t-shirt under his usual dark jacket. Bar-guy smiled at him, gentle and warm, and just the sight of it got Sam’s blood racing even faster as a grin spread across his face in return.

Then Jo plonked four beer bottles down onto the tray and shoved it back across the bar until it hit Sam’s bare sternum, bottles rattling.

“Table five, big guy,” she chirped through her usual shit-eating grin.

Sam groaned loudly, shot the guy a shrug and a smile, and picked the tray up once more.

Table five was close to the stage, and as Sam neared it, the lights turned a blinding purple as Balthazar strode out from the wings. The crowd cheered in anticipation at the sight of the club’s most popular dancer.

Sam’s hope that the table he was serving would be too distracted by Balthazar’s routine was unfounded. He fought the urge to wince as one of the patrons swept a cool, damp hand down the curve of his practically bare ass as he leaned down to unload the beers. He almost tipped the whole tray over completely in surprise when the band of his G-string was overtly tugged on.

The group of businessmen, who looked roughly identical to each other in the way that guys pushing 50 all did – Dadbods, greying hair, dressed in suits of blue or dark grey – seemed to like the get-up Sam had on tonight, if the four sets of eyes acutely trained on him were any indication.

Sam had been handed his cowboy outfit by Crowley when he’d clocked in for his shift that afternoon, and he should have known then that it was going to be a grope-filled night on the floor. He had nothing but the G-string covering himself, really – he was shirtless and the crotchless chaps he was wearing were essentially pointless. Cowboy boots, a completely unfunctional belt with a bull’s head buckle, and a Stetson completed what had to be Sam’s least favourite look of his wardrobe here. He would have preferred his devil outfit over this; it was just as stupid, but at least his ass was adequately covered when he wore those ridiculously skin-tight black leather trousers.

Sam didn’t react to the hand stroking him as he placed the final bottle in front of the last man, just moved himself to be the tiniest bit out of reach as he stepped back, forcing the hand to fall away.

“Is there anything more that I can get you, gentlemen?”

“I think we’re good for now,” the blond guy who’d been pawing Sam’s ass replied smoothly, without a trace of shame. And why would he be ashamed? Sam was a waiter in a strip-club; being fondled was a regular occurrence, whether he liked it or not. It was all just part of the job.

“Do we get to see you up there tonight?” one of the guy’s cohorts asked, leering in a way that was probably meant to be sexy but only served to make Sam’s stomach churn. The man gestured with his chin to the stage, where Balthazar had started to strip to ‘Pour some sugar on me’, and Sam again fought the wince-urge.

“Ah, no, I’m not one of the dancers, sir. I just wait tables.”

Well, that wasn’t _entirely_ true. But there was no way Sam was going to volunteer the fact that they’d find his pseudonym on the list of availabilities for private room bookings. He purposefully kept his eyes from said list so as not to attract attention to it, even though it sat in the centre of their table as if it were a menu.

“What a shame,” murmured the blond guy, as his hand found Sam’s ass once more. If the creep tried to pull down Sam’s G-string one more time, Sam _was_ going to have to punch him. One of the other men pointedly glanced at the nametag on Sam’s belt loop before he picked up the private room list. Dammit.

Sam kept his face impassive, not particularly concerned. Crowley might be the world’s biggest and most pretentious prick, but even if blondie or any of his friends did pay Sam’s top rate for a private session tonight, Sam was always allowed to say no.

As a finger slid under the band of Sam’s G-string once more, Benny cleared his throat from behind them in warning. When the appropriate response wasn’t deemed to be fast enough, the bouncer grasped the customer’s wrist and yanked it away from Sam, pinning his arm to the table in the process.

Benny’s drawl was low and slow, but the threat was evident in his voice when he spoke.

“Handsy, quit the groping. You touch bare flesh, then you best have paid for the privilege first. Speaking of, Campbell, you’ve been booked for a private session. Let’s move.”

With that Benny grabbed Sam’s shoulder and steered him across the floor, away from the table of creeps.

“Thank God,” Sam muttered.

Benny made a noise of acknowledgement as he walked Sam past the bar and punched in the code on the keypad that would release the door to the corridor of private rooms.

“Sorry I took so long, brother,” Benny patted at his back. “I saw that creep from across the room getting too touchy-feely. Would have been with you sooner, but a rowdy bachelorette party caught sight of Kevin. They had almost all his clothes off before I could even wade in there…”

“Say no more, please…” Sam muttered, wrinkling his nose as he shot Benny a grim smile. “So, what’s this booking for?”

“No idea… Crowley didn’t say,” Benny shrugged, the music and lights of the club fading as the door clicked shut, leaving them alone in the mirror-lined hallway. Benny didn’t seem bothered on his behalf, and Sam knew it was because his friend was expecting him to say no to whoever had asked for a private session.

Sam always said no, no matter the request.

“Well, what _did_ Crowley say?” Sam asked over his shoulder as he led the way down the hall.

“The Moose has been booked,’” Benny’s face remained deadpan as he imitated their boss’ British accent to the best of his ability. “’Tell those perverts at the table he’s serving to keep their hands off my merchandise. And tell the Moose to consider thinking with the head in his pants rather than with his stupidly large brain, for once; it would be far better for my business.’”

Sam snorted. “What does that mean?!”

Benny just shrugged, “All I can tell you is the john headed up to Crowley’s office and said he wanted you for ‘dealer’s choice’. Crowley listed him your personal rules and limits, and it was all kosher with him. He’s offering $500, and he’s a regular, seems a good guy. You’ll recognise him, but he’s never booked anyone before. There’s nothing shady about him. But it’s all up to you. Just… why don’t you try and have some fun? Say yes for _once_ , brother. Please?”

With a clap to the shoulder, Benny left Sam outside the best suite in the club, the big one at the end of the hall that Sam had never actually set foot inside in the entire time he’d worked at Kings. Benny’s walkie-talkie was already buzzing to call him back to the front door, and he gave Sam a salute before he ducked back out to the floor.

Sam lingered in the corridor, fighting a yawn as he tried to decide what to do. It was his choice or not whether to take the money in return for whatever the john wanted; even if Sam accepted the deal but felt uncomfortable or was pushed beyond his limit at any point, he could signal to the camera in the room and Crowley would come down to rescue him and smooth things over. It was the only comfort Sam could possibly have in this job. If he simply weren’t interested at all, he could be back on the floor in two seconds.

Sam sighed absently – $500 was a fuck-ton of cash, and it was over his listed amount for sex, which meant the john could be asking for anything. Rent was due next week; Sam’s car had recently needed a new cambelt that he was paying off; and he still owed Jo at least $200 for the furniture he’d bought off her when he’d first moved to town six months ago. If he said yes to the john, he would finally have a bit of money spare, after Crowley took his cut.

Deciding to at least find out what the guy wanted from him first, Sam pasted on his most charming smile and slipped inside the room.

The john turned from where he was perusing the alcohol selection on the counter along the back wall; the best room had the pricey liquor shelf to match.

Sam felt himself break out in a real grin as their gazes met.

It was him.

Shorter than Sam, with eyes that looked gold in the yellow light of the room, bar-guy cocked his head to one side as they appraised each other from opposite sides of the room.

“Hi there,” Sam let a bit of a smirk creep into his grin. “So, we’re finally alone at last. I was resolved to talk to you tonight, just didn’t think it would be in here.”

“And all it took was cold, hard cash, who could have known? Well, well, well, you’re an even bigger boy up close, huh?” Bar-guy leered as he said it, but there was humour in his eyes and a lightness to his tone that didn’t cause Sam’s stomach to turn at the innuendo, for once.

“Is it bad for your ego if I tell you you’re the fifth guy to say that to me this week?”

“Nothing’s bad for my ego, baby boy, it’s set in stone,” the guy’s eyes crinkled as he laughed.

Sam felt himself start to blush at the use of the pet name, even though he’d been called far more salacious terms so far just this evening, by plenty of other patrons.

“So,” he murmured instead as he sidled a little closer, taking his cowboy hat off and dropping it on the low table by the door, conscious of the way those gold eyes roved over his bare torso. “How can I be of service?”

The guy took his time answering, smiling as he finally poured himself a drink, then held the whiskey bottle questioningly over a second glass.

“Just a small, please,” Sam nodded.

Bar-guy poured him a finger and held it out to him. Sam shot the whiskey back in one go and then drifted over to replace the glass on the table, letting his hip brush the guy’s side as he leant around him.

Neither of them moved; the guy gazed up at Sam, a challenge in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

“I guess that depends,” he replied, finally answering Sam’s question.

“On what?”

“… personal preference.”

“$500 will pretty much get you an hour of whatever you’d like,” Sam grinned back, thrilled beyond belief and fighting the urge to immediately shout ‘yes’ in agreement to whatever the request might be.

“ _Your_ personal preference.”

“My… what?” Sam frowned, confused.

“Look, to be honest, I booked you because Benny was caught up in saving Kevin,” bar-guy admitted, “and I couldn’t stand to sit there and watch that douchebag in the crappy suit try to work a finger in dry.”

“Ah, so you saw that. Well, thanks for being my knight in shining armour,” Sam couldn’t help but match the guy’s grin once more. “But seriously, $500 is a lot of money! You know, I… that’s over my listed rate for… everything. Like _everything_ everything.”

“So, you’re saying I’m offering enough that I can fuck you, if I want?” bar-guy deadpanned, before he took a sip of his drink.

“Yes, I am saying that, yeah,” Sam breathed, suddenly very conscious of his G-string and how little it was hiding.

“Is that what _you_ want?”

“I… I mean…” Sam licked his lips, completely thrown at his opinion being invited. People didn’t usually _ask_ what he wanted, they usually just tried to take and got angry when he reacted negatively.

“Why don’t we sit down?” the guy offered, brushing gentle fingers over Sam’s wrist before he took a seat in the armchair that faced the foot of the bed.

“They call me Gabriel, by the way.”

“Nice to finally meet you, I’m… Campbell.” Sam replied as he sat down on the bed. He was still thoroughly confused, but not enough, never enough, to forget to give his pseudonym. “Look, I’m not quite following here, Gabriel.”

No one _asked_. No one asked what Sam wanted, in any capacity, ever, and lest of all here in this job, not that he ever said yes anyway. That was the way it went. Until now, apparently.

Until Gabriel.

Five minutes in the room with him, weeks and weeks of eye-contact and longing… and now everything felt different, like Sam had turned a corner and there was light at the end of the tunnel.

“We can do whatever you want,” Gabriel clarified. “If you wanted sex, we could do that. If you wanted to touch me, you could. You want me to blow you? I would be all types of down. Or we could just drink and shoot the shit, or drink and sit in silence. Or, horror of horrors, not drink. It’s completely your call.”

Gabriel looked so calm, so relaxed, so casual, even as he talked like that… talked about the possibility of them doing… _things_ … that he disarmed Sam completely. Seeming to notice his wide-eyed shock, Gabriel reached out to rub a soothing thumb over the back of Sam’s hand.

“Hey, baby, it’s OK. Relax. I booked you to stop you getting felt up by that creep, even if only for a little while. I don’t expect anything.”

Sam took a breath and nodded as he tried to form his scattered thoughts into coherent speech.

“Look, I… I’m grateful, and you seem really sweet, and… I’ve been wanting to talk to you since forever, so even just this has been so fantastic. Please don’t misunderstand, but I need the money…” _God_ , did Sam need the money. “So, if you’re not actually wanting a private session, then I need to get back out on the floor to make some tips – I… my bills…”

“It’s yours,” Gabriel replied, holding out a wad of cash. “All yours, baby boy. Take it.”

“But I… we…” Who _was_ this guy?! How could anyone be this kind, this generous, thus understanding, and not want anything, _everything_ , in return?

“Dealer’s choice,” Gabriel replied, crooked smile back in place and his eyes so gentle that Sam’s frayed nerves immediately started to calm. “You can take the money and walk out right now, if you want.”

“Why?”

That was all Sam could seem to articulate. Gabriel quirked him another smile, put the money down on his knee and then shrugged, stood, and headed back to the liquor shelf to pour himself another drink. Once he had refilled his glass he turned back to Sam, golden eyes seeming to absorb all the colour and warmth of the room as he appraised him.

“Because an ass as sweet as yours deserves to be appreciated properly, not squeezed at by some sweaty pervert hiding a wedding band in his pocket. There’s plenty of pretty guys in the world; plenty of guys in great shape with muscles for days, and plenty of combinations of both. But you… you’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen,” Gabriel’s cheeks coloured slightly as he spoke. “And I just so happen to think that you deserve due reverence and shouldn’t be pawed at like a piece of meat. If you wanted me to, I would worship your body until you were speaking in tongues, baby boy.”

Once he’d finished his declaration, Gabriel took another long swig from his glass.

“I…” Sam shifted in his seat, trying to cool the heat pooling in his belly as he babbled nonsense. “That’s… I… wow, I… uh…”

_Yes_ , he thought but couldn’t say. _Yes_.

“Shit! Sorry! Was that too much? I’m sorry, my mouth gets away from me, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” Gabriel was looking down at him anxiously, since Sam was still yet to articulate anything that resembled a coherent sentence.

“Uncomfortable is not the word I’d use, not in that way, at least,” Sam reassured him, clearing his throat before he continued. “That’s really sweet of you. I’m just surprised you ever even noticed me. I mean, I don’t work the stage, and I’ve never had the chance to talk to you. Not for lack of trying.”

“How could anyone on God’s green earth _not_ notice you?” Gabriel murmured, his eyes seeming to stare straight into Sam’s soul. “The first time I saw you, I wanted… I wanted this, to be close to you, alone with you. It’s not just your face, your body. Don’t get me wrong, you should be on runways and in magazines. You just seem... so out of place here. I hope for your sake you work here because you want to, not because you need the money, but I know that’s unlikely in this sort of biz.”

Sam bit at his lip, suddenly feeling intensely guilty for his current career-path. Gabriel noticed the gesture and held up his hands.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. It’s not my place to question you, and I’m not judging you, or what you do and why. We’ve just met, and it’s not my business. I just… you’re too _beautiful_. And you deserve nothing less than the sweetest, most utterly mind-blowing pleasure. You deserve to be taken care of and treated right. And I want you to know I would offer you all of that in a heartbeat, if you ever wanted me to.”

Seeming to have run out of things to say, Gabriel finished another mouthful of his drink and sat back down in the armchair.

Sam eyed him speculatively, his fascinating gold eyes, the curve of his lips. Gabriel seemed honest, and genuine, and he had obliterated the sour taste the guys at table five had put in Sam’s mouth. Just having the chance to sit somewhere private, quiet, and comfortable, and to be able talk to him was so far surpassing all of Sam’s needs.

“You said dealer’s choice… and you don’t mind what I choose?”

“Nope. All up to you, baby.”

Sam gazed at him a moment longer before he threw caution to the wind.

“So… this will sound crazy… but my walls at home are paper-thin, my neighbours have a colicky new-born, and I can’t remember what uninterrupted sleep feels like. Between that and the stress of writing my college application, not to mention working here, I’m exhausted.”

Gabriel looked both surprised and amused by Sam’s words, head cocked to one side.

“College?”

“I’m applying for Stanford. Pre-law,” Sam explained. “The application’s due early January, and I’m starting to freak out, to be honest. I barely slept a wink last night, actually, so today has really dragged.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows raised, “Goodness! A body and a brain.”

“Not that much of a brain, I work here, don’t I?” Sam waved him off with a laugh. “Look, I can’t walk out of here with your money in good conscience, and I don’t want to leave you yet, not now I’m finally with you. But I also think we should get to know each more before…sex enters the equation. So... can we take a nap?”

“A nap?” Gabriel echoed, glancing at the time on his Rolex. Then his smile returned, all warmth and mirth. “Not the weirdest thing I’ve done in bed. Sure, of course. We’ve got 40 minutes or so.”

“That would be heaven,” Sam admitted. He was bone tired. And Gabriel already made him feel safe and cared for, even only after a short amount of proper contact. It was disarming. Everything in his past told him that this guy was too charming, too wonderful, too perceptive, and all of Sam’s instincts warned him to run the opposite way before he was caught, found out, uncovered…

No. No.

No, Sam Winchester was gone. He was Campbell Wesson now. And Campbell had nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to fear.

“You really don’t mind?” Sam begged again, as he let himself scoot up the bed to curl up against the pillows. Thankfully, the linen was changed after every booking.

Gabriel merely shook his head no, and offered him another smile, before he crossed the room to dim the lights on the switch by the door.

“Will you hold me?” Sam whispered to him, and Gabriel turned to look back at him, expression unreadable in the low light. Sam was utterly petrified he would say no and laugh at him, but Gabriel put his drink down and clambered up onto the bed without hesitation. He tucked himself along the line of Sam’s back as he draped a protective arm over his waist.

Sam pressed himself back against Gabriel’s body with a contented sigh, and dozed off in seconds, feeling utterly and immediately relaxed.

*

He came awake, slowly, to Gabriel gently stroking down his shoulder.

“Time to wake up, baby. We’ve got about five minutes left.”

Sam forced himself to open his eyes with a groan, then rolled over to face him in the dim yellow light. Gold eyes watched him, amused.

“So… did you just pay $500 to watch me sleep?”

“Nuh-uh, watching you would be too weird, even for me. I paid $500 to get some work done while a pretty boy managed to get some rest.”

“Work?”

Gabriel waved his phone before dropping it back onto the mattress and taking Sam in his arms again. Sam let himself snuggle into his shoulder, enjoying the feeling of warm palms stroking his bare back.

“I’m in the business game. The emails don’t stop after 5pm, believe me.”

“What sort of business?” Sam murmured into his neck, still drowsy.

Old habits die hard – get the facts locked down quick and look for the easiest ways to exploit… _No_.

“Uh… digital communications, I guess you’d call it?”

“If the work you did while I slept netted you $500, I might not feel quite so guilty.”

Gabriel just laughed and gave Sam a pat on the head as he eased himself out from under. Sam had to scramble on his belly to grab his shoulder and stop him getting off the bed. Gabriel looked back with raised eyebrows.

“Can you… kiss me? Will you kiss me, please?” Sam had no idea what possessed him to say it, but he knew why he wanted it. Gabriel just looked so _good_ in the low light.

Sam was appraised for a long moment before Gabriel simply reached across the short distance between them and cupped his cheek to draw him in. Sam shifted up onto his knees to meet him, leaning forward on his hands as their lips brushed, immediately wanting to get closer, to get more.

A single kiss had never made Sam horny before, but the second Gabriel’s mouth was on his he was hooked. It wasn’t even dirty. Hell, it was _chaste_ , just the soft press of their lips, the barest sweep of their tongues. And it still had Sam gasping, his blood happily draining south. Gabriel kissed him slow and languid and careful. Gabriel kissed him like he _liked_ him, like Sam was more than a piece of meat, more than a body currently perched on a bed in the stupidest outfit known to man.

Sam kissed him back, unable to keep from letting it get fierce, his lips parting even though Gabriel wasn’t seeking; he slid his tongue into Gabriel’s mouth at the same time as he wrapped his arms around his neck.

Gabriel let out a moan as Sam tugged at him until they were horizontal. He buried his hands in Sam’s hair once he’d been pulled down on top of him, encouraging him to tilt his head back so he could deepen their kiss, his tongue plunging into Sam’s mouth like he was hungry for it.

The knocking at the door had them both groaning in frustration as they pulled apart.

“Campbell! Playtime’s over!” Benny called through the door.

Sam called out a quick, “Yeah, got it!” in acknowledgement, then swore under his breath.

If he had ignored Benny to keep on kissing Gabriel, like every instinct and every inch of him wanted to, the bouncer would have shouldered the door in. Benny loved doing that.

“Can I see you again?“ Sam asked, as he reluctantly let Gabriel sit up. “I need to see you again. Can you come back tomorrow, so we can do this again as quickly as possible?” Then he flushed red, realising he was asking Gabriel to pay more money for his company.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, if you want me, sure.” Gabriel smiled, before he climbed off the bed at last. Sam tried not to whine at losing the feeling of his delicious weight pressing down between his legs.

Gabriel scooped up the money from where it had fallen on the floor and tucked it into Sam’s cowboy hat, which he handed back as he walked Sam the three steps to the door. Sam’s hands, for some reason, were trembling, and he reached out to drag Gabriel in for another long kiss to try and run his adrenaline out.

Of course, he only made it worse for himself and found he couldn’t bear to tear away from Gabriel’s warm mouth. He let out a moan of pleasure at the fingertips brushing over his bare shoulders, which turned into a whimper of surprise when Benny pounded on the door again.

When Gabriel opened it, the bouncer fixed him with a long look.

“I. Said. Time.”

Gabriel just waggled his eyebrows at Benny, then winked at Sam as he was unceremoniously hauled him down the hall, Benny’s fingers tight around his forearm to stop him escaping back to Gabriel.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sam called out, unable to keep from blushing under the heat of Gabriel’s gaze. He just had time to catch the little smirk Gabriel sent him before Benny dragged him through the door and back out into the club.

“Stop mooning, boy. The boss wants you.” Benny gave Sam a little shake, then shoved him in the direction of the stairs.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam muttered, replacing his hat as he headed up to Crowley’s mezzanine, where the club owner oversaw the stage, the floor, and the cameras for the private rooms.

Sam had the money, Crowley’s cut, held out in his extended hand as he let himself into his boss’ office, but Crowley waved him off immediately without even bothering to look up from his computer.

“Keep the lot, moose.”

“What?”

Crowley took 25% of the booking. Crowley always took 25% of the booking.

“Keep it. $500 for the tamest thing I’ve ever seen on these screens? I’d be offended if it hadn’t been so adorable. No wonder you’ve never taken a booking before if _that’s_ all you’re willing to do! You literally _slept_ with him!”

Sam grinned and blushed, ducking his head as his cheeks heated. When he finally looked up again, Crowley was regarding him with a raised eyebrow.

“Do you know what you’re getting yourself into, moose?”

“Oh, come on…”

“I’ve been in this game a long time, kid. This job isn’t _your_ calling, believe me. It’s always only a matter of time before guys like you stop being so desperate for the cash and call it a day. No harm, no foul, just business.”

“OK,” Sam frowned. “Your point being?”

“My point, sweetie darling, is that coming away from a kiss and a cuddle and a _fucking nap_ looking like you’re walking on air and made of sunshine is surprisingly stupid, especially for you. We sell sex here, moose, be it visual, aural, or the act itself. Not love.”

“I’m perfectly aware of that,” Sam snapped back.

“Just making sure. Don’t want to see your little heart get all broke into pieces,” Crowley shrugged, before he shooed Sam away.

Sam spent the rest of his shift grinning; not even Crowley could ruin his mood.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow, and it was a struggle not to count down the minutes until he got to see Gabriel again.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day found Sam anxious with anticipation from the moment he woke up. His stomach churned, swinging wildly between sick doubt that Gabriel would actually still want him 24 hours later, and complete and utter euphoric excitement.

His day dragged. Writing his Stanford application on his crappy laptop felt like it would never end and would certainly never be good enough to get him a place. Listening to the baby screaming next door made Sam want to scream too. Ignoring a bout of incessant calls from Dean in the early afternoon put him even more on edge.

By the time 4pm rolled around Sam was on tenterhooks, annoyed and excited and nervous all at once. He felt as though he’d achieved nothing all day, incapacitated by his worries and environment. His brain knew what he wanted even though his body was restless, jittery, tense. All that mattered was getting to the club, to Gabriel. Every fibre of his being felt like it was vibrating with the need to be back in the man’s presence again.

Once he arrived at ‘Kings’, Sam didn’t whinge about the new outfit – a cop uniform – he was made to wear, just pulled it on and tried not to smirk as he wondered if Gabriel would like it. Nor did he complain when he ended up having to cover pretty much all of Garth’s tables when his friend went home sick with food poisoning from God-knows-what. He was too excited to let anything bring him down.

But Sam was so busy all night that even keeping an eye on Gabriel’s typical haunt at the bar was difficult. Pam and Jo were full of wide smirks every time he glanced over to check for Gabriel, but Sam ignored them and their stupid eyebrow waggles in his direction. So, when Benny came to escort him to the same room as yesterday, Sam was relieved.

The second he knocked on the door of the suite at the end of the hall, Gabriel immediately flung it open, and Sam lunged at him. Everything else washed away as his need was finally soothed by Gabriel’s lips.

They sank onto the bed together, hands delving under clothes, tongues barely leaving each other’s mouths. Gabriel was just so fucking _good_ at kissing, and Sam couldn’t seem to stop. Breathing didn’t matter. Talking didn’t matter. All Sam wanted, all he needed, was a lifetime more of that mouth.

Their frenzy didn’t slow until Benny was suddenly banging on the door to signal time. Somehow their hour was already over, which felt impossible and filled Sam with wild panic all at once. He didn’t want this to end, and it seemed Gabriel felt the same. Without a word, he was up off the bed and sticking his head around the door.

“Another hour,” Gabriel said to Benny. It made Sam blush to hear the tension in his voice, to hear that he was wanted as badly as he needed Gabriel in return.

“You all good with that, Officer?” Benny called sarcastically to Sam.

“I’ve transcended good,” Sam yelled back, sitting up to reach out imploringly for Gabriel to come back.

Gabriel kicked the door shut as he stalked back to the bed, already eyeing Sam hungrily.

Not wanting to waste time, they lost themselves in each other again, fingers stroking through hair, palms roaming skin, mouths frantic, crazed.

They only finally parted when Gabriel insisted on a break and got off the bed to pour them both a drink, chuckling at Sam’s disappointed groan.

Sam was dizzy with endorphins and hadn’t even noticed until then that his shirt was unbuttoned. But without Gabriel’s hands on him, which had been stroking his chest, he felt cold and alone.

“You know, we haven’t even said hello to each other yet,” Gabriel pointed out, as he handed Sam a shot of whiskey.

Sam drank it so fast he barely tasted it, dropped the glass on the bedside table and pushed himself up his knees to grab Gabriel’s shoulders and haul him down onto his lap for more kissing. His brain and body were begging for more.

“Hi,” he murmured, between sips of Gabriel’s mouth, trying to coax his tongue to play.

“Hello,” Gabriel smirked against Sam’s lips. Then he slid a hand Sam’s hair and tilted his head back to make him meet his gaze and Sam couldn’t help but moan at the desire that spiked through him at the sensation. He started to lean back and pull Gabriel properly down on top of him, but Gabriel stopped him with a firm hand on his sternum.

“Hold your fire, baby boy. There was something I wanted to talk about first.”

“I’m clean,” Sam mumbled, eyes still fixed to Gabriel’s mouth as he tried to arch his head up to capture it again.

“What? Oh! No, no baby, no,” Gabriel’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, then he intertwined their fingers together and pinned Sam’s hands to the mattress to keep him still. “I mean, awesome, but that’s not what I wanted to discuss.”

“Oh,” Sam tried not to pout as he realised there wasn’t going to be more kissing quite yet. Sighing, he wriggled out from under Gabriel and pushed himself back to sit against the headboard as he waited.

“Look… can I ask why you do this?” Gabriel seemed anxious, settling cross-legged next to Sam’s knees. “I’m not trying to pass judgment on you. You’re just… very different… from the type of guy this lifestyle seems to typically attract. I’m curious how you wound up here.”

“Like I said yesterday, I need the cash. I’m trying to get into college.” Sam shrugged, managing to stop staring longingly at Gabriel’s mouth long enough to raise his eyes to his face. “I never stayed in one place long enough to do what was necessary to get a scholarship; I’m lucky to even have an adequate GPA. I had to amass credits between about five different schools in my senior year. So… _this_ is how I can afford to eat. The tips are good, even though I’ve never done a private room session before you.”

When Sam had first made a run for it to escape his life, his older brother Dean had called him, howling and outraged. He’d realised quickly what Sam had some, why he hadn’t joined them at the rendezvous point, and that he had no intentions of coming back.

They’d yelled down the line at each other as Sam floored the hotwired Camry he’d stolen, neither willing to back down for the few seconds it would have taken to try and understand the other’s point of view.

“I’ll run forever if it means you never drag me back to him!” Sam had screamed when Dean had paused for breath.

After a terse, unhappy silence, Dean had quietly offered to forge documents and siphon whatever bank accounts were necessary to help Sam create the new identity he needed to truly escape. He’d been so confused when Sam had snarled at the mere suggestion of more illegal activity, and Sam still felt bad months later about how he’d snapped, that he’d caused his brother pain.

But Dean, as ever, had entirely missed the point.

Sam had wanted to flee the life they had been leading. He had needed to get away from their Dad. To get away from Dean. He didn’t want to keep doing it anymore, the cons, the theft, the fraud – all the scams that John pulled off so proudly, Dean so dutifully.

But Sam didn’t want to commit another crime again in his life.

And he had succeeded; a not-so-clean break had him now hunkered down in hiding in San Francisco, terrified every minute of every day that his Dad would reappear to drag him away from his freedom.

But it was hard to kick old habits, old instincts.

If Sam wanted, he could have the Rolex off Gabriel’s wrist in a millisecond. It would be easy, seamless, and Gabriel wouldn’t notice until Sam was long gone. He’d done it hundreds of times, in his old life.

There was a downside to freedom, of owning nothing but a few changes of clothes, a laptop that was a fire hazard and a crummy car that was more of a death-trap than a vehicle. Sam might be free, but he sure as hell wasn’t comfortable. At all. After rent, bills, and upkeep of his car... at least he was already intimately familiar with the sensation of being hungry.

But Sam had run because he wanted an honest, real, genuine life filled with calm, peace, and safety. Not crappy motel rooms, petty theft so easy it was second nature, and fucking people over. Not Dad. Not Dean.

Sam wanted _normal_. He didn’t want to sweep every room he entered for exit points out of pure habit; to spot a mark from ten paces and know exactly where they kept their wallet, their phone; to lie as naturally he breathed.

He longed to lose that in-built knowledge so desperately, even now. He wanted to work for his money, get by on his own merits. Even now, half-way there, that had meant Sam stooping to relying on his looks and body to get by. But at least the money he took home from ‘Kings’ each night was honestly _his_.

“So, it is a money thing? That’s what I’d wondered,” Gabriel was saying, gold eyes wide as he gazed at Sam, still somehow looking at him like he was the most important thing in the world.

Sam shrugged again.

Gabriel nodded, seemingly to himself, then rolled off the bed, and started rooting around in the pocket of his trousers. Sam watched him, a little bewildered.

It became clearer when Gabriel produced a business card, which he held out.

“Look, take my card, please. And if you ever need anything, call me. I just… I want to help. Not only are you beautiful, but you’re smart, and funny, and _good_. You deserve… not to have to do this if you don’t want to.”

The card listed a phone number and email address below ‘Gabriel Novak, CEO, Novatech.’

It took half a heartbeat to register, then Sam squawked and scrambled to his feet.

“Wait. This is you?” Sam half screamed at him, clutching the card. “You’re… Gabriel _Novak_? You’re the head of Novatech?”

It couldn’t be, but it was. The card, in Novatech’s signature gold, had the famous logo of the white angel wings, not to mention the last name...

Gabriel winced a little and chewed at his lip as he sat back down. 

The Novak family dominated the upper echelon of society – Gabriel’s own innovative tech company rivalled Apple, Samsung, and Microsoft, to name a few. His brother Zachariah’s law firm had pretty much every celebrity in LA on their books. Their only sister, Anna, was a famous artist and sculptor based in Portland. Another brother, Uriel, was the former quarterback-turned-coach of the New England Patriots. There wasn’t a stone of industry unturned by the Novak clan. One sister, ten brothers, all of them uniquely skilled and formidably successful in their field, and with their family headed by their frighteningly famous parents… the Novak’s were practically American royalty.

“I _said_ I was in the business game,” Gabriel looked embarrassed.

“Novatech?” Sam shrieked again, sitting down very hard next to him on the mattress. “Oh my God! You _said_ digital communications!”

“Where’s the lie?” Gabriel tried and failed to look innocent.

“You’re not _just_ a regular businessman!”

“And you’re not _just_ a regular anything,” Gabriel smirked back at him, coy. “I go to work in the morning, sit in traffic just the same as anyone else. Hold meetings, argue with imbeciles, try to keep my shareholders happy… I’m no different from the next guy or girl in the game.”

“And your house is where? Pacific Heights?” Sam couldn’t help but scoff at Gabriel thinking he wasn’t special. “Wait, aren’t your offices next to Twitter’s?”

“Uh, yeah, they’re nearby. And I live in Sea Cliff,” Gabriel muttered, finally looking shame faced. “I like the views…”

“Oh my God,” Sam groaned, pitching himself to lie back on the bed. “Dude… I can’t even with you!”

Fucking Sea Cliff? His mind couldn’t deal.

“Well, once you’ve started even-ing again, my offer stands,” Gabriel’s voice above him was soft, but insistent. “You need anything, feel free to call me. Any time.”

Sam opened his eyes to peer up at him, and Gabriel’s smile in response was gentle, tenuous. Or at least it was, until Sam curled a hand around his neck and pulled him down to meet his mouth once more – it had already been too long.

When Gabriel eventually pulled away, Sam mourned until he saw that his gaze had grown hungry, and he moved up to straddle Sam’s hips and trail a hand down his abs to toy with the belt of his outfit.

“Thank you for your offer,” Sam told him honestly, before he received another slow kiss that turned wild in half a heartbeat.

Gabriel fucking Novak. How was this real life? Sam was tempted to think it wasn’t, that he’d dreamed the whole thing while stuck in some crappy motel with his Dad and brother after all… yeah, he must be dreaming, must have imagined his freedom and his escape, and let it all culminate in his mind to form perfect, wonderful, gorgeous Gabriel, because who actually had a mouth that sinfully good?

When their time was up, Benny practically had to beat the door down before Sam could bear to pull himself away from Gabriel’s mouth and hands. He grinned at the way Gabriel dissolved into helpless giggling when he tucked the business card inside the waistband of his underwear, as his cop outfit lacked any actual pockets.

After Benny physically – and quite impressively – picked Sam up around the waist and hauled him back out to the floor, Gabriel followed with a rueful smile. He was settled into his usual seat at the bar when Sam came down from Crowley’s office (Crowley had rolled his eyes at Sam and shooed him straight back out).

Getting back to work was difficult.

Gabriel, for his part, seemed content to spend the rest of his night at the bar, winding Jo up and trading salacious gossip with Pam. Well, he _actually_ spent most of his time shooting glances over at Sam that were so heated they made him blush, and it was a real struggle for Sam to focus on anything else.

“So, tell me, Novak,” Pam asked Gabriel at one point, in a loud, carrying voice as she poured another shot of whiskey for him. “Is Campbell’s ass as firm as it looks?”

“Like you don’t already know, you grab it more often than anyone!” Sam couldn’t help but call back to her as he left the bar with a tray of cocktails, loving the way Gabriel’s face lit up when he laughed.

*

Sam missed when Gabriel finally left for the night.

“He left you this,” Jo tried to placate when Sam’s bitch-face came out with a vengeance once he realised Gabriel had left without a word. She slid a glass of whiskey across the distance between them.

Sam beamed and let the liquid warm his throat before he picked up a tray of tequila shots, a saltshaker, and a bowl of lime wedges for table six and headed back to the floor.

When his shift finally ended a few hours later, Sam was in such a good mood that he was actually whistling.

He really couldn’t keep his mind off Gabriel if he tried, so he didn’t try. Any spare second Sam had, his thoughts were merrily fixated on the feel of Gabriel’s mouth on his, how Gabriel’s hands had slid so easily through his hair, the press of his body between Sam’s legs…

As he was in such a good mood, for once, Sam didn’t even mind getting stuck with the locking up. He changed back into his green hoodie and jeans and got to work with the broom. He usually hated the cleaning, especially alone, but Kevin was so tired that he was practically asleep on his feet, and Sam felt guilty that his friend had handling all the waitering work alone while he had been with Gabriel for two hours. Jo and Benny were still around while he cleaned, of course, but they were no help, and were too busy making out over the bar while Sam did all the work. Nothing unusual there.

Sam didn’t even really mind; he felt buoyant, giggly, excited. He got the work done in record time and threw a dirty tea-towel at the couple to get them to stop kissing so they could all go home.

Once all three of them were outside and the alarm was set, Sam waved a distracted goodbye to his friends as they drove off, leaving him alone in the lot to trudge to his crummy little car. It wasn’t until his engine wouldn’t turn over that his good mood finally evaporated.

“Fuck,” he muttered, trying again. He could hear it trying to engage, but it wouldn’t stick. “Fuck!”

Sam wasn’t the best with cars, truthfully. He had never had much to do with the maintenance of the Impala; Dean was as possessive of her as Dad, so between the two of them, she was kept in pristine condition. Sam had never needed to learn much about car maintenance, but he knew enough to realize his current car was a piece of junk. Two of the seatbelts didn’t work, and he’d had to replace the battery, the gear shaft, and the brakes when he’d bought it before it was even driveable.

Popping the hood, Sam scrunched his nose up as he stared down at the engine. It could be anything; the starter, a loose connection, the battery _again_ …

To make matters worse, a glance at his phone told him it was now 2:17am.

Sam started calculating. To afford a taxi home, and either an emergency call-out of a mechanic or a tow-truck would be doable, but he wouldn’t be able to pay his power bill at the end of the week. Or, he could probably get a bus home, it would be cheaper, but it would take three connections to make it to his door… Then again, he had the cash from Gabriel, but he’d been hoping to bank that…

As he puzzled over what to do, Sam reached for his phone again and hissed through his teeth when he saw his battery was now only on 10%. He could make one phone call before it died, and that would have to solve all his problems – he was pretty sure Benny had taken the club’s keys, so getting back inside to use an office phone wasn’t looking like an option.

Sam sighed, and wedged one hand into his pocket again to double-check he definitely didn’t have the keys, which caused him to dislodge Gabriel’s business card.

It fell straight into a muddy puddle at his feet because of course it fucking did.

“Fuck!” Sam yelped, snatching the card up before it could get ruined. Then he stared at it, and Gabriel’s number stared back.

Should he? There was something unethical about it, Sam knew. Something that told him to dial the number would be to take advantage… but Gabriel had said Sam should call if he needed anything. He certainly needed help right now, he was genuinely stuck, and it was cold and late… Sam reasoned to himself that Gabriel probably wouldn’t mind. Heck he’d probably send a limo to pick him up, and hand feed Sam caviar during the drive… because seriously, _Novatech_? The guy had to be a billionaire.

Sam frowned. Asking for help wasn’t a Winchester trait. Gabriel, for all his family’s infamy and his money and his fucking talented mouth, was still a stranger. A stranger who had so far paid $1500 for Sam’s company in the past 48 hours… no, he had paid for _Campbell’s_ company. Gabriel hadn’t even met the real Sam Winchester, and never would.

Rubbing at his forehead in frustration, Sam gave his wheel a despondent kick, which solved nothing and hurt his toes. Then he sucked up his pride and typed in the number, his phone deciding to be an absolute prick by dropping to 8% battery before he’d even hit call.

Gabriel picked up on the fifth or sixth ring, his voice sleep-slurred.

“’Lo? Gabe N’vak…”

Sam gritted his teeth in a cringe at having not realised Gabriel would be asleep at this time of night.

“Fuck, Gabriel, I’m so sorry!” Sam gasped out, his free hand clenching his anxiety into a fist, not knowing what to do. He was so stupid.

“Campbell?” Gabriel sounded more awake by the second. “Is that you, baby?”

“Yeah…” No. But there was nowhere to go with _that_ lie but forward. “Hi, oh my God, I am so sorry to wake you… I…”

“Are you alright? What’s happened? Are you hurt?” Gabriel was worried, panicked, and Sam rushed to reassure him.

“No, I’m OK. I’m fine. It’s just… my fucking car won’t start,” Sam glared down at it. “Everyone else has gone home, my phone’s about to die, and I just… didn’t know who else to call…”

_I don’t have anyone else_ , he couldn’t bring himself to say. No Dad, no brother, not anymore. And he couldn’t let the new friends he’d made get in that deep, couldn’t let them have any inkling that there was something amiss about him, couldn’t risk them seeing that he was essentially squatting in the most squalid apartment known to man and wasn’t who he said he was.

“You’re still at the club?”

Sam could hear rustling in the background, Gabriel getting out of bed, probably dressing… was he naked? _Not now_ , he scolded his brain when it tried to fixate on that happy possibility.

“Yeah, I’m still in the parking lot, freezing my ass off…”

“Stay there. I’m coming right now, baby boy, don’t worry.” Sam’s heart did a backflip at the pet name that was fast becoming his favourite words to hear for Gabriel’s lips.

“Thank you!” he just managed to gasp out before his fucking phone died.

Fifteen minutes later, Sam was sitting on the hood of his stupid car, trying not to shiver, when a ludicrously bright red Ferrari pulled into the lot and parked next to him.

Even before he was properly out of the car, Gabriel was calling “Are you OK?” He left the door open as he rushed to Sam, his seat belt dangling onto the ground where he’d thrown it off.

Torn between shame for dragging the man from his bed and delight at seeing him, Sam just held out his arms and wrapped them around Gabriel’s shoulders once he was within reach.

He let out a happy sigh, burying his face in Gabriel’s neck for a long moment, before he finally got to kiss him again.

Gabriel made a soft noise of surprise against his lips before he quickly got with the programme. His hands slid quickly up into Sam’s hair and he angled his mouth against Sam’s to kiss him back even deeper, even dirtier.

It was quite some time before Sam could answer the question. Not that he was complaining.

“Are you OK?” Gabriel asked again, stroking Sam’s hair out of his eyes, looking worried.

“God, thank you so much for coming,” Sam wound his arms around Gabriel’s waist. “I’m fine, just cold and embarrassed and sick of this stupid car! It’s costed me more money to fix than what I paid in the first place!”

“Yeah, certainly looks like a piece of crap,” Gabriel told him cheerfully as he rubbed at Sam’s shoulders. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Don’t know. Don’t even care anymore.”

As Gabriel backed up a few steps to examine the car, Sam stretched and checked he had all his stuff in his pockets.

“It has to stay here tonight, at any rate. My phone died before I could call a garage.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I already called a tow while I was on my way here, it will get picked up soon,” Gabriel stared down at the car as he spoke, as if not quite convinced he shouldn’t just set the useless heap of metal on fire right there in the lot.

Sam wouldn’t stop him, that was for damn sure.

Taking the opportunity to gaze at him, Sam stared greedily at how gorgeous Gabriel was, lit up in the silver glow of moonlight. How the hell did the guy look so good, even sleep-rumpled and haphazardly dressed in yoga pants and a sweater?

Gabriel seemed mystified that such a car was even road-worthy (it technically wasn’t), but eventually he turned back to Sam with a shrug.

“Anyway, where can I drop you?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. There’s a bus.” Was it even still running, this time of night?

Shaking his head, Gabriel led him to the Ferrari by the hand, “No. Hey, it’s fine. Let me drop you. I want to know you’re safe, baby.”

There it was again, the pet name that made the bottom of Sam’s stomach drop from longing.

“Thank you. I’m over in Ingleside. In the crappiest apartment in the whole state,” Sam laughed as he folded himself into the passenger seat.

Gabriel shot him another smile that made his blood rush as he started the engine, and there was no way in Hell Sam could keep from smiling back.

*

For his wont, Gabriel genuinely seemed to be trying not to look too horrified as he stared up at Sam’s apartment when they pulled in twenty minutes later.

A little embarrassed, Sam cringed as he himself gazed at the flaking paint on the door, the cracks around the window frame. It was worse inside, shabby and threadbare, the air thick with damp no matter how much money Sam could spare to run his dehumidifier and a heater.

He couldn’t imagine what was going through Gabriel’s head. It was a far cry from Sea Cliff. But Gabriel wasn’t going to see inside. Unfortunately. Sam’s secrets were all safe for now.

Smiling over at him, Sam reached out to slide a hand around Gabriel’s elbow, trailed it along his wrist.

“Thank you so much for rescuing me.”

“Happy to help.” Gabriel drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, then finally tore his gaze away from the building to look at Sam. “I gotta say, I sure hope you have a wall-sized TV or a bouncy castle in there, something to distract from the – is that mould on the window?”

Sam followed at a slower pace as Gabriel climbed from the car to peer closer at the outside of his bay window.

“Yeah, this place… isn’t great. But it’s all I can afford.”

Gabriel turned back to him, eyes widening and looking concerned.

“I’m not trying to mock you! Real estate in this city is petrifyingly over-priced, it’s a disturbing problem! But no one should have to live in unhealthy or unsafe conditions like this. I didn’t even know mould could grow on glass!”

Neither did Sam, before this apartment.

“Well, I certainly don’t have a bouncy castle. Or a TV,” Sam remarked, unlocking the front door and ushered Gabriel inside and then through into his apartment. Might as well get it over with, it felt inevitable. 

Sam’s place was on the ground floor, the former sitting room of a badly maintained but once grand home that had been divided into four damp, crappy apartments. Hit meagre kitchen ran along one wall, and all Sam had room for otherwise was a couch, a rickety dining table in front of his bay window seat and his bed. It was damper and colder inside than it was outdoors – he couldn’t afford to run his heating while he wasn’t home.

Gabriel poked his head into the mildew-infested bathroom, which Sam could never scrub fully clean no matter how many hours he spent trying. When Gabriel emerged, he let out a shudder, then turned to Sam.

“You can’t live here. You’ll get mould poisoning. Or pneumonia. Or hypothermia.”

Sam wouldn’t be surprised if he had a touch of all three already.

“What can I do? My options are this or the street. There’s nothing else out there available for rent that’s any better,” Sam shrugged.

“Come and live with me,” Gabriel blurted out, seeming to surprise himself as well as Sam.

“What?”

Sam had to have heard him wrong.

“I don’t mean… I’m not asking you to be my kept-boy!” Gabriel rushed to clarify. “But I have a big house with loads of spare rooms. You’d have your own bedroom, your own bathroom. Hell, you could have three if you wanted. I wouldn’t touch you. It wouldn’t be like… like _that_.”

“I… wow… uh…”

Sam had no words. Live with Gabriel? In Sea Cliff? His brain wouldn’t let him accept that it could be possible.

“I don’t want to be your sugar daddy,” Gabriel insisted, his gold eyes firm, calming. “I’m just offering a safe, dry, warm house for you to live it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“So. I’d be… your… roommate… that can’t afford rent?”

“I have the room, and money isn’t a factor for me. You can pay rent if you want to and can afford it comfortably. If you can’t, that’s fine. Look, it’s just an option to consider. Think about it. No pressure.”

Words spilled from Sam’s mouth before he could even process that he was saying them.

“Yes. Yeah, I’ll move in. God, yes, please.”

“Wait, wait. You need to take some time to think about it,” Gabriel tried to assert.

Sam cut him off by crossing the room to kiss him, drawing Gabriel’s tongue into his mouth when he gasped into it, languid and slow.

Moaning, Gabriel briefly let his hands curl up into Sam’s hair. Then he gripped his shoulders and eased him gently backwards.

“Baby, hang on,” he murmured. “You need to understand that that’s really not what this is about.”

“I know. But maybe I want it to be.” Because fuck. _Fuck_. Sam wanted him any way he could have him, six times over.

“It’s late.” Gabriel’s voice was soothing and gentle, but Sam didn’t miss the long glance he shot at the bed. “You need to get some rest. Run your heating, and whatever else you do to make this place habitable. I’ll foot the bill and, you know, try not to panic about the dodgy wiring in this place burning you alive in your sleep.”

Sam chuckled despite himself, winding his arms around Gabriel’s waist and trying to hide how badly he didn’t want him to leave.

“Stay with me, then,” he suggested, keeping his tone light. ”It’s late. You need to sleep.”

God, he needed the man in his bed so badly.

Gabriel half-smiled as he relented with a sigh. “You drive a hard bargain. Sure, why not? I might even survive it.”

Sam scoffed and shoved him lightly as he let him go.

“You won’t catch pneumonia from spending just a few hours here!”

“Didn’t mean health wise,” Gabriel muttered.

Sam just had to kiss him again at that, had to back him to the bed and press him down onto it and sink down on top of him.

He whined when Gabriel manoeuvred himself out from under him after only a few moments, but with a heated smirk, Gabriel wagged a finger in his face.

“Stop that. Bedtime. For _sleeping_.”

Sam pouted, but was too exhausted to really argue.

He took a quick shower in his crappy bathroom, cringed at the water and its awful pressure, on a hair trigger between scalding and freezing.

Gabriel was sitting in his bed waiting when Sam came out of the bathroom, and Sam didn’t hesitate to crawl straight under the blankets and into his arms, all the stress melting straight out of his psyche at the contact.

He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

*

When the obnoxious trill of an unfamiliar alarm screamed through his senses, Sam roused briefly. He grumbled in protest at the noise and then with more urgency when the warm body that had been pressed to his slid out of the bed. Gabriel said something to him, smoothed a hand through his hair, but Sam was asleep again before he could really hear what it was.

When Sam properly woke, smiling and warm, it was midday. The dehumidifier had adequately dried the apartment, so once he dragged himself from bed, he spent a few comfortable hours working on his Stanford application, in between making breakfast, and tidying the place up.

He’d arrived in Frisco with only a duffle bag of clothes and the ancient laptop Dean had ‘procured’ for him a few years back, so keeping the studio clean wasn’t hard. Moving into Gabriel’s – because Sam already knew for sure he wanted to – would be a breeze with such a paltry number of belongings to his name.

Sam only had three weeks left to get his college application in, and he was starting to get nervous. He insistently ignored his phone for most of the day while he tried to focus; a call from his brother and three texts from his old high school friend, Brady, were all ignored. He did, however, pick up a call from Gabriel, and tried not to let his pleasure come across too obviously in his voice.

“Hey!” Sam grinned as he answered. “Thanks again for saving me yesterday. And, you know, for staying with me last night too.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” The word fell so naturally off Gabriel’s tongue. “Waking up to you made the hypothermia completely worth it.”

“Oh ha-ha!” Sam rolled his eyes at the water-stained ceiling.

“Right?” The smile was evident in Gabriel’s voice. “I know, I know, I’m hilarious. So, you work tonight?”

“Yeah, my shift starts at 5,” Sam tried not to sound too hopeful that Gabriel would come by the club again.

“I’ll send a car to take you there, I’m in a meeting till late.”

Oh. OK… that wasn’t what Sam had expected, and the feeling of rejection stung at his chest.

“Your car is at my friend’s garage,” Gabriel was saying, unaware of Sam’s sinking stomach. “But there’s a lot of work to be done to fix it. It’s all up to you, but… well, he says he’ll buy it for scrap.”

“I guess that’s my only option,” Sam muttered. “Don’t worry about me though. I’ll get a bus to work this evening.”

“I need to know you’re safe. A taxi will be at your door at 4:30.”

“Thank you. That’s really kind, I appreciate it,” more kindness than Sam had ever known or deserved… Campbell Wesson sure was a lucky guy.

Sighing down the line, he clicked save on the draft of his application and stood up from the table, stretching before he went put his empty coffee mug in the sink.

“So, I’ll be by the club tonight, whenever my meeting ends. If you wanted, I’ll take you home?” Gabriel said, a question in his tone.

“My place or yours?” Sam tried to keep the renewed grin from his face but failed spectacularly.

“Which do you want, baby?”

“You. Yours.”

“And I want you there,” Gabriel agreed. “I do. So badly. But we need to talk more about it, to make sure we’re on the same page. We’re still strangers, after all, Campbell.”

“That’s fine,” Sam assured him, even as a little voice in his brain screamed _there is_ _no Campbell_. “I know you’re doing it to be kind, I know you don’t have any expectations or designs.”

For some reason, Gabriel wanted to help him. And Sam wasn’t too proud to admit he very much needed all the help he could get right now.

“I’m not going to jump you the second we’re alone in your house. But I also can’t just ignore the fact that I want you. Badly. I have for so long. So, it’s going to be an effort to put that to one side, you know?” Sam tried to explain.

“We’ll take it slow,” Gabriel said decisively. “I’ll woo you; you’ll charm me, and there won’t be any sex without a handwritten invitation.”

Sam laughed, giddy with excitement, but Gabriel cut him off.

“I’m serious, baby,” he insisted, a hard edge to his voice. “I’m attracted to you. Incredibly attracted to you. I’ve never hidden that nor am I going to try to start now. But I refuse to take advantage of you and the situation we’re going to put ourselves in here. So, we’ll take it slow. And if you decide you want something more, that’s great. You don’t? Also fine. I won’t kick you out or turn on you if things don’t work out the way I’m hoping they eventually will.”

“I know you won’t,” Sam told him honestly. “You’re like no one else I’ve ever met. Just kissing you, God you have no idea what it does to me! I didn’t even know it was possible to get that turned on from it before now!”

At the sound of Gabriel’s low chuckle, Sam bit his lip before he carried on.

“But slow will work. Slow it is. I can definitely do slow.”

_Slow_ , Sam wondered later, after he had packed his meagre possessions. He stared around guiltily at the second-hand furniture he’d only just paid Jo back for, realising he now no longer needed it.

He was moving in tonight with a guy he’d had a crush on from afar for months, who he’d only spoken to for the first time three days ago, and who his interactions with so far had totalled two long make-out sessions, a night-time rescue, and the most comfortable, restful sleep he’d had since leaving the safety of his brother’s vicinity.

Yeah, who was he kidding? There was nothing slow about it, that was for sure.

Ignoring the insistent little voice in his head whispering that his fantasy of a happy life with Gabriel wasn’t going to work, Sam shut the apartment door behind him with a resounding click.


	3. Chapter 3

“You can’t be serious,” Sam groaned at his boss about five minutes into his shift that evening, when he was standing in the dressing room at ‘Kings’ in nothing but his underwear. “Crowley, come on!”

“I like it!” Garth piped up, as his head emerged from the shirt of the costume _he_ was going to parade around in tonight. “It’s very tongue in cheek!”

“Thank you! Someone gets it! You’re now promoted! Head waiter!” Crowley shot Garth a charming smile that morphed into a scowl as he turned back to Sam. Garth fist pumped in triumph over Crowley’s shoulder.

“No negotiations, I’m afraid, sweetie darling,” Crowley insisted to Sam. “You’re my only waiter who isn’t a weedy geek. Garth and Kevin don’t have the muscles to fill this costume out.”

“Because you ordered it specifically to fit me, obviously!” Sam eyed the vicar’s outfit he was holding up in front of himself with complete and utter distaste.

“Naturally, naturally! Now put it on, moose, and get to work. Every second you’re not on the floor is another $50 docked from your tips. Time to see how deep Gabriel Novak’s pockets can get, don’t you think?” Crowley’s tone turned hard as he disappeared out the changing room door. The boss hated being questioned, and with nothing else for it, Sam yanked the stupid costume on and headed after him, teeth gritting at having to hear Crowley’s mouth sully Gabriel’s name.

As Sam crossed the room, no fewer than three customers flagged him down and asked if he was going to punish them for their sins, which didn’t even make _sense_. By the time he reached the bar, Ash, who was meant to be getting the lighting and music queued for the dancers but seemed to just be sitting there doing nothing, laughed so hard at the sight of Sam that he cried tears of mirth.

“I fucking love Crowley!”

Jo hid a smile behind her hand and Pam’s eyebrows rose to her hairline as she took in Sam’s costume, her eyes lingering on the white catholic collar at his throat.

“Wow. That’s hot…”

“Don’t,” Sam warned her, before he lifted the bible that came with the outfit (tied to the rosary at his waist, _seriously_ Crowley?!) to wave it threateningly in Ash’s face.

“I will hit you with this without hesitation, Ash. Shut the hell up!”

*

Sam was four hours into his shift when he did hit Ash with the Bible, and they were tussling for it at the bar when Pam’s excited voice made Sam pause.

“What do you think of your boy’s newest get-up?” Pam called to someone behind them.

Of course, when Sam glanced over his shoulder, Gabriel was there. He was standing behind Sam, biting his lip and looking pleased, his eyes having been blatantly fixed on his ass.

“I’m having a revelation of some sort, believe me,” Gabriel murmured, so quietly that only Sam could hear him.

It was almost disturbing how quickly Sam’s bad mood evaporated, and his blood started racing just from _looking_ at Gabriel. He’d missed him so keenly the whole day, and it was like a weight lifted off being able to see him again. The older man squeezed Sam’s hand in greeting, then took his usual seat at the bar.

“I hate this, for the record,” Sam warned him, gesturing down at the priest outfit, just so Gabriel didn’t get too attached to it.

“I can’t imagine why,” Gabriel smirked at him, already sipping the whiskey Jo had slid over the bar. Sam started to slink closer to him, but Pam cleared her throat.

“Table ten, padre.” She sent him a wink, a cluster of glasses and a bottle of white wine waiting on the tray in her hands.

Sam sent her a wordless snarl that did nothing to assuage her smirk as he picked up the tray and headed off, ignoring her howl of “LOOK AT THAT ASS! Gabriel, you have such good taste!”

“I really do, don’t I?” was the gleeful agreement from the incredibly smug object of Sam’s affections.

The rest of their undoubtedly tawdry conversation was swallowed up by the din of the music and the patrons chattering as they waited for the next stripper to make it to the stage. Sam wasn’t sure if he should be grateful for the noise drowning out the conversation behind him or not.

Needless to say, after about an hour of watching Sam’s biceps and ass get groped, with the tight black t-shirt and trousers of the costume offering no protection from the customers he was serving, it seemed that Gabriel didn’t like his outfit so much after all.

On one of Sam’s forays back to the safety of the bar, Gabriel wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed a quick kiss to the underside of his jaw, his gold eyes still trained on the woman who’d just tried to slide her hand down the front of Sam’s trousers.

“If it helps, she didn’t actually get anywhere,” Sam told him in undertone.

Gabriel shook his head, still perturbed. “People can’t just _grab_ you…”

“They can and they do.” Sam shrugged, putting his empty tray down. “Benny’s always around if it gets too physical, and they’re not allowed to touch bare skin. But… I mean I figured I’ll quit if I get into Stanford and try find a more reputable job somewhere else.”

Gabriel’s expression lightened. “Something without slightly sacrilegious priest costumes?”

“Exactly,” Sam laughed. “I’m pretty sure libraries and cafes are grope free zones, mostly. Hopefully.”

“You know that you don’t have to work, right?” Gabriel pointed out meaningfully.

“You know I want to,” Sam countered.

“Sure, baby. I’m just saying, if your studies get too intense after you start college, and a job is too demanding on your time…”

“Then you’ll accept payment for board in other ways?” Sam couldn’t keep the grin from his face, but Gabriel’s expression went flat.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“I’m joking, I’m joking!” Sam grabbed his shoulders, feeling shitty. “Sorry! It was just a joke…”

Gabriel continued to frown at him.

“I’m sorry,” Sam repeated, sheepishly, leaning down to murmur in his ear. “No sex yet, I get it. I know we said slow… and I swear to you I’m going to try… but… it’s going to be really, really _hard_ …”

That earned him a smirk at least, and he just had time to insist, “I’ll be paying board in cash!” before Jo was filling a tray with whiskey sours, and he was off again into the din of the club, as Cole appeared to start his routine to ‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails.

Gabriel stayed all night until closing to wait for Sam, happily ensconced at the bar, though he switched to drinking water as it got later. Sam even managed to duck away early when Kevin told him he was happy to clean and lock up, if Sam wanted to ‘get out of here with Gabe’ (Kevin spoke with a perfectly kind smile while Garth made creepy gestures with his chin and eyebrows in Gabriel’s direction behind him, until Sam punched his shoulder to make him stop.)

Changing out of the freaking priest outfit was the second-best thing to happen to Sam all day, and he prayed (ha) that he wouldn’t be forced into it again any time soon.

Gabriel was waiting outside, yawning, and leaning against a different car this time, a lime green Porsche.

“Do you have cars in every colour of the rainbow?” Sam asked, when he reached him. He didn’t give the man any time to answer however, before he crowded him back against the driver’s door, needing to kiss him.

Gabriel wound his arms around Sam’s waist in response, pulling him tighter against his body, and Sam couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop. He‘d been wanting to kiss Gabriel all night, had been thinking about it all day. And now he was high on adrenaline and excitement and Gabriel’s mouth, and his hands, and the sweet, soft noises he made when Sam used his teeth on his neck…

The blaring of a car horn made Sam start to break away to yell at Garth, but Gabriel grabbed his chin to tug his mouth back down where it belonged. Garth responded by cranking Barry White through his car stereo until it was Gabriel that pulled back because he was laughing too hard. Garth waved obnoxiously out his window and screeched his brakes as he peeled out of the carpark.

“Oh, I like him!” Gabriel announced, reaching up to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes.

“Don’t say that,” Sam muttered back, wrinkling his nose. “Garth is my dude, but he’s ridiculous.”

Gabriel kissed him again then, and Sam groaned against his lips. His longing began to build up, thick and cloying in his veins, in his belly, as his hands roved up and down Gabriel’s back.

“Sorry, baby,” Gabriel mumbled, before he pulled back. “Sorry, sorry, no no no, we can’t… this is the opposite of what we decided we wanted to do, remember?”

Sam whined out his frustration, “I just… I want… I _need_ …”

“I know, baby boy, believe me.” Gabriel rubbed at his shoulders placatingly. “But if you come home with me and stay, like we planned, then we can’t do _this_. Not immediately, at least. It’s too messy, too risky. You come home with me and we behave ourselves as soon as we’re over the threshold, or I put you up in a hotel while we get to know each other, so I can routinely fuck you senseless without feeling like I’m taking too much advantage of your circumstances. It’s entirely your choice.”

Sam whined again, his head swimming with desire at the thought of Gabriel pounding him through a mattress, and he had to fight to keep his judgement impaired.

“I want to be with you,” he groaned into Gabriel’s neck. “I want to be with you, to be around you as often as possible, all the time, every day. I don’t just want sex, even though _by God_ do I... I’ll behave now. I’ll be good. I’ll try.”

“OK,” Gabriel murmured to him, sliding his hands up and through Sam’s hair briefly before he let him go. “All right, let’s get you home, baby.”

*

Sam gawped up at the house and really, really wanted to laugh in incredulity because _how?_

It was beautiful, of course, like a cross between a Spanish-style mansion and a freaking castle, but ten of Sam’s apartments would fit on each floor, from the size of it. He could see the Golden Gate Bridge from the driveway.

Gabriel pulled into the garage and parked next to the red Ferrari from yesterday, and then the door lowered behind them, shutting the rest of the world out.

Sam climbed from the car already staring at the canary yellow Cadillac parked at the front of the garage with his mouth hanging open. When his gaze fell on the black and gold Triumph Daytona motorcycle next to it, he squeaked.

“Feel free to use whichever car you like, the keys are all over there,” Gabriel pointed to the connecting door that led to the house, and the pegboard on the wall next to it, from where several sets of keys were hung.

“Oh, dude, you gotta move that,” Sam told him, cringing, as he grabbed his bags from the Porsche. “If someone broke in, that’s all your vehicles gone.”

Gabriel shrugged as he walked over to put the Porsche’s key on the board. “If anyone can actually get past my security system, they’d deserve them.”

“It’d be easy,” Sam remarked before he could stop himself, his old habits bleeding through as Sam Winchester briefly broke free of his carefully locked cage. “Just ram the garage door, smash the windows, trip your power to disable the alarm…”

Gabriel turned to stare at him, eyebrows raised, and Sam shut himself up far too late.

“Just…” the lie formed so instinctively on his tongue that it felt almost true. “I’ve been reading a lot recently about criminal motive and processes as prep for my application.”

It came out so quickly and easily; he’d been lying since he could talk.

“Riiight... Well, the whole house is reinforced, but I’ll bear your newfound expertise in mind,” Gabriel laughed. Then he was reaching the door through to the house, and Sam had to scramble after him, dropping his stuff on the garage floor in his rush to catch Gabriel’s elbow.

“Wait!”

Gabriel let go of the door handle in time to be yanked back into Sam’s arms. A split second later, Sam was sinking down to kiss him before he could be stopped.

“We’re not across the threshold yet, right?” Sam broke away to pant, feeling the need to get the point across.

Gabriel huffed a laugh, “Uh, technically I think we are…”

Sam shook his head no so frantically that Gabriel took pity and kissed him again.

“I feel as though, despite best intentions, this may become a recurring theme,” Gabriel murmured when they parted to breathe again.

Sam didn’t answer, just dropped his head to nip at Gabriel’s throat and let his hands slide down to the fly on his jeans.

“Oh, no. No, nope, baby! PG-13 only, play by the rules,” Gabriel pulled away again, grabbing at Sam’s his wrist to stop him.

“It hasn’t been that so far!” Sam tried to wheedle, but Gabriel was adamant.

“It will be from now on.”

Fuck.

Sam couldn’t do this.

“I don’t know if I can bear it,” he admitted to Gabriel, torn between shame and desire. “I thought I could, and I want to try, honestly I do. I don’t want to ruin this, God I _so_ don’t want to ruin this with you, because you are beyond amazing, but…”

He let his thigh slide between Gabriel’s legs, causing the older man to swear, his head thumping back against the door at how hard Sam was already.

“I want you so badly,” Sam murmured to him, needing him to understand. “You feel that? It’s all for you, all yours...”

Every piece of him was now. And God, he knew it was stupid, but he wanted Gabriel more than he’d ever wanted anything.

Gabriel groaned like he was being ripped apart, his hands clenching on Sam’s shoulders as their bodies began to move together, rocking almost helplessly.

“If we do this now, then we won’t have any reason to ever stop. I won’t ever want to stop. And if we give in so quickly, my baby boy, then I’m worried we won’t be able to lay the groundwork for a proper relationship,” Gabriel hissed out through gritted teeth, face pressed up into Sam’s neck. “I don’t just want sex from you. I want everything.”

“We’re not inside. Not inside the house, at least,” Sam reminded him before he kissed him again. “I’ve been wanting you for so long. I don’t know how to stop. I can’t turn it off.”

Gabriel swallowed hard, then drew in a shaky breath, looking like a man besieged.

“Do you want me to take you to a hotel?”

“No!” Sam moaned, overwhelmed and wanting. “No. I want what you want. I want all of you, I want to be with you, properly. I do!”

It was hell, the worst turmoil he’d ever known. He was so desperate for Gabriel that he was dizzy with it. He felt so tightly wound that something had to give. But he knew he would regret it if he jeopardized the future he might have with the man because he couldn’t keep his pants up.

But Gabriel’s mouth felt so good when he started kissing him again, and Sam had to fight harder against his need, now aching and thick. He wanted to be with Gabriel, every second of every day. He couldn’t lose him now, even if the orgasm was undoubtedly going to be incredible.

Sam held on to that deeper desire, clung with both hands to it, as he tried to override his more carnal craving. When he was finally calm enough to back away from the edge of the precipice, he looked Gabriel in the eyes again and got a gentle smile and fingers skimming over his collarbone in response.

“I’m going to woo you. So. Fucking. Hard.”

Sam burst out laughing, delirious with joy. “You’re going to need to if you want to distract me from how badly I want you! And I’m going to woo you back. I dunno how yet, but I’ll figure something out.”

“All you need to do is keep looking exactly like you do in this moment, and you‘ll be golden.”

“I just… is it dangerous to ask a question?” Sam tried not to preen at the attention, and the fact that his desire was being clearly returned.

“Oh, probably.” Gabriel’s eyes had a challenge to them, though, and he arched his hips to press up against Sam until they both moaned again. Yeah, stopping really wasn’t going to work any time soon, so Sam forged ahead.

“I want to know… I want to know what you want. If you could... What do you want to do to me? What would I do to you? If you could have one thing…” Sam blushed as he spoke. He pressed his burning face back down into Gabriel’s neck, desperate to know the answer but scared to display the naked need that he knew was visible in his eyes.

“What do you want most?” he tried again, words coming out in something like a whine against Gabriel’s skin.

“I’m not sure we should cross that line, baby boy,” Gabriel tried to soothe him, rubbed at his neck, stroked his hair back with gentle hands. “We’ve already gone further than we should have.”

“I want to hear it,” Sam insisted, lifting his chin. “No harm in words, is there?”

“You want to know what I want?” Gabriel let out a low chuckle. “You really think that once you hear it, you’re going to be able to just go to bed alone? You really think, once you hear what I want right now, what I’ve wanted since the first second I saw you, that this thread won’t snap?”

“Oh, hell no.” Sam barked out a laugh. “I’ll need a cold shower or ten, definitely. But tell me. Please. If you could do anything. Have anything from me. What do you want the most?”

Heat flashed through Gabriel’s eyes before he offered Sam another smirk.

“For you to cook me pancakes tomorrow morning?”

“Gabriel,” Sam groaned, leaning down to nip at his earlobe, kiss the top of his shoulder, taste the back of his neck, feeling drunk on the spicy citrus scent of his cologne, on his hands, on his mouth, always his mouth.

“Tell me,” he wheedled, knowing he sounded wrecked but long past caring. “I want to know. I need to know you want me as badly as I want you, and that holding off and waiting for this is going to be so, so, so fucking worth it. I need to know that depriving myself of you right now, as hellish as it feels, is going to eventually lead to you fucking me so good that I’ll never want anyone else for the rest of my life.”

Gabriel pulled Sam’s head up off his shoulder so he could look at him properly, then said in a perfectly neutral tone, as if they were discussing the weather, or taxes, or football, “I want to watch your face as you cum.”

Sam stared at him in surprise, feeling himself blush even harder. Gabriel smirked back, his expression quickly turning gleeful.

“Does that satisfy you?”

“I…” Sam struggled to articulate the swooping in his stomach, the thumping of his heart and the pooling of warmth in his groin. “I’m surprised anyone would want to pay attention to _that_ , I guess?”

“I want to watch you face when you cum,” Gabriel repeated, voice slipping lower in octave. Sam let out a shaky breath in response.

“You are the most gorgeous thing I have ever laid eyes on, and quite frankly, the things I will do to you in the very near future could fill several phone books. Things that you’re going to have to wait for now, like a good little boy.”

Sam gasped at that, the words seeming to head straight to his cock. He pressed his body into Gabriel’s again, shoving him back against the door.

“That’s what I want.” Gabriel sounded so confident, so sure, and that in itself was so sexy that Sam’s knees went weak just listening to him.

“I’ll tie you down first, so you have to just take it, and then I’ll tease you all fucking night long. I’ll get you so rock hard you’ll think you’re about to burst. Then I’ll open you up with my fingers and my mouth, until you’re so wet and ready and needing it. You think you’d like that, baby?”

Sam could only moan in answer, Gabriel’s gold eyes still boring into his as he grabbed Sam by the hair to make him keep looking at him.

“I’ll give you my cock,” he carried on airily. “But only after you’ve begged yourself hoarse for it. I’ll have to tease your hole for a while first, though. It would be what you deserve, driving me to madness all these months, don’t you think?”

Sam whimpered his agreement feebly as he started to squirm against Gabriel’s warm hips.

“I’d watch your face when I finally slide into you. Do you look the same as you do right now, I wonder?” Gabriel trailed his fingertips lightly along Sam’s heated cheekbone as he asked. “How do you look when you first feel it pressing in and filling you up? Because you look so gone right now, baby boy, so completely out of your mind.”

“Oh God!” Sam burst out, knowing his face was bright red, as his lungs begged for oxygen. He couldn’t seem to open his eyes enough to focus. He was so on edge from the words, the mere promise.

“Thought you didn’t want it to go like this!” He choked out, trying to control his trembling.

“No, you misunderstand, my baby boy. I want this so very, very much. But all we’re doing is talking. No harm in words, is there?”

Sam wailed, his body crushing Gabriel’s to the door as he started to work his hips against him, but Gabriel easily manoeuvred himself out of Sam’s arms and away from his body.

“Please! No! Please touch me!” Sam could only stare after him helplessly, his voice unfamiliar to his own ears, a needy sob.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Gabriel ran his hands through Sam’s hair again in consolation, then settled them on his shoulders and gently guided him until it was his back that was pushed firmly against the door.

“Uh-huh… Please. Please!” Sam needed something, anything, any sort of friction against his cock.

Almost casually, Gabriel reached for Sam’s shirt, and unbuttoned it enough to peel it open and reveal his chest.

“I’d slide into you, baby,” Gabriel pressed his torso against Sam’s once more. “But I’d hold completely still. Just like this. I’d wait until you were throbbing around me, thrashing to try and get your pleasure, clenching to try and pull me into moving. Then do you know what I’d do?”

As he posed the question, he let his fingers stroke Sam’s nipples, brushing them lightly. Sam could only gasp in response, speech lost to him.

“When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, baby,” Gabriel’s hands stilled, and Sam wailed at the loss of the sensation. “I _said_ do you know what I would do next?”

“No! I don’t know, I don’t know!” Sam yelled out. His nipples tingled as Gabriel started up his merciless ministrations again, tormenting them until Sam was both out of breath from squirming and whimpering for more, lost in maddened need.

Once he seemed satisfied that Sam had transcended the ability to form coherent thought, Gabriel leaned in again so that his voice was a whisper against Sam’s ear.

“I’d give you just one deep thrust, enough to make your nerves sing.” He demonstrated with a single shift of his hips into Sam’s, and Sam fucking howled.

“Gabriel, please. Can’t. I can’t… I can’t… please! Please!”

“Yeah?” Gabriel’s laugh was filthy, low. “If you beg like that when I’m finally fucking you, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Let me cum, please!”

“Not yet, baby, not yet.” Gabriel kissed his neck, lips tender but tongue teasing. “You asked a question, but you haven’t had the full answer, don’t be so impatient.”

Sam groaned, letting his head fall back, helpless and ecstatic all at once.

“I’ll give you what you wanted, baby. I’ll give it to you as hard and fast as I possibly can, on and on and on, working you closer and closer to pleasure, pressing your sweet spot, making you feel so _good_ …”

Sam writhed, his hips bucking. He was so mindless that he barely noticed Gabriel undoing his belt.

“I’ll draw it out as long as I can. I’ll watch your face while you cum. I’ll watch your pleasure, every bead of sweat, every flutter of your eyelashes. It’s going to feel so good, so very good, won’t it? To lie back and take it and know I’m watching every inch of you as you finally cum on my cock?”

“Oh God, Gabriel, please, yes, yes please,” Sam arched his back, trying to get closer. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the world to refill his lungs. “Please, I can’t…”

“Can’t what, baby?”

“I can’t … too much… want it…”

His brain was swimming with lust, his blood sluggish in his veins, everything felt heady and hazy. The most basic of thoughts were evading him; he was reduced to pure need, pure want.

“What, baby boy? Use your words for me.” Gabriel sounded so far away, even though his warm, delicious body was right there pressed against Sam’s.

“I can’t… I’m so fucking horny for you, I can’t take this anymore!”

He could feel Gabriel against him, the bulge of his undoubtedly thick cock pressed to Sam’s thigh, and he rocked helplessly against it, grateful for the friction.

“Then tell me what you need.”

“I need to cum! Need you to let me cum! Please? I’ll do anything!”

“That’s a dangerous promise to make, baby. What if told you to get down on all fours and put that sweet ass up in the air for me? What if I told you I wanted you to choke on my cock, swallow it all down your throat, before I let you cum? What if I told you I wasn’t going to give you release for days and days?”

Sam screamed, his body pitching forward, and he fell to his knees at Gabriel’s feet. He pressed his face helplessly against his clothed crotch, damn near about to cry from desperation.

“Please,” he sobbed against the denim. “Please!”

“Oh, that’s gorgeous, yeah. God, look how wrecked you are, my poor little baby. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Gabriel knelt down and took Sam in his arms, soothing him for a few moments with his touch, long and gentle strokes up and down his back. Then he lifted his chin and pressed their foreheads together.

“Look me in the eyes and ask me for what you want like a good boy.”

“Please let me cum? Please let me. I need it so badly,” Sam whispered to him. Gabriel’s eyes were soft as he smiled back.

“You’re such a perfect baby boy for me. I’ve got you now, gorgeous. You can cum for me any time you like…” Gabriel reached out and peeled down Sam’s fly as he continued to squirm, his trapped cock achingly hard. When he was finally freed, Sam wailed in pleasure at the warm hand wrapping around his length.

“Look at you... God, just look at that, so pretty… what am I going to do with this pretty cock, hm?”

“Anything you want,” Sam whimpered to him. “Just don’t stop, please!”

Gabriel gazed at him almost consideringly for a long moment before he pressed him to lean his back against the door and held his shifting hips still. Then he lowered his head and began to lick at the precum seeping from the tip of Sam’s cock.

Sam sobbed; Gabriel’s words had made him mindless and frantic, and now the attention was almost too much. After a few long licks, Gabriel settled for flicking his tongue over the head in a way that brought tears of delight to Sam’s eyes, it was so overwhelmingly good.

It took a few tugs on Gabriel’s hair and some wordless, garbled whimpering from Sam to make him pull away. He smirked up at Sam, stroking him with his warm, dry hand just to make him whine some more. Then he took Sam’s cock in his mouth slowly, sinking more and more down his throat in a way that was almost tender. The warmth and wetness felt like absolute heaven, and Gabriel had just started rolling him on his tongue when Sam came, choking on his own desperate gasps.

He sagged back against the door, gasping for breath, as Gabriel stroked his hips with his thumbs and swallowed it all. His release seemed to go on forever and he lost himself in it, how good it felt, the warmth.

Fuck. This man was going to be the death of him.

Sam could only stare at Gabriel in awe as he stood and reached down to smooth Sam’s hair before he helped him up too. He dragged Sam’s jeans up as he went and did them back up for him.

“Better?”

“Guh?”

Gabriel laughed and brushed back some more of Sam’s hair from his red, sweaty face.

“Come on, gorgeous. Shower and bed, I’ll show you.”

He grabbed Sam’s bags, then took his hand and tugged him into the house at last. Sam followed blindly, too sleepy and sated to notice much. Gabriel didn’t bother to turn on the lights, just guided him to a set of stairs and led him up.

Sam shook his head to try to clear the grogginess and tried to take stock of his surroundings as they climbed.

“Is that a pond down there, under the stairs?” he asked, pausing to stare back down at the ground floor beneath them, as the water below reflected moonlight.

“Koi pond, yeah.”

Sam gaped at him. “You have a pond _inside_ your house?”

“Most people _don’t_ , that’s the real travesty,” Gabriel laughed, as they made it to the next level. Then he paused and gestured around, still holding Sam’s hand.

“So downstairs is the garage, the kitchen, formal dining and living areas, the gym... This level has my office, a few more living spaces, the arcade, couple of bathrooms…”

“No pond up here?”

“No pond. But don’t panic if you trip over a small dog. Her favourite pastime is getting under people’s feet.”

As if on cue a small terrier came trotting up the stairs after them, and Gabriel let go of Sam and his bags to pick her up.

“Say hello to Skadi.”

Sam scratched her ears with a smile and the dog whined and tried to wriggle closer to lick him. When Gabriel put her down, she went for Sam’s feet, sniffing at his shoes eagerly until Gabriel shooed her back down to her bed and took Sam’s hand again to lead him up to the next level.

“Top floor is bedrooms; all have their own ensuite. I’m down the far end,” Gabriel gestured to the open door at the end of the hallway as they walked down it, a view of the bridge already visible through the windows.

“And you’re next to me,” he finished, opening the last door on the left side of the hall, revealing a large bedroom decorated in blues and greys, that looked out over the sea. “Will it do?”

“Holy shit,” was all Sam could say, heading immediately to the window and opening the sliding door onto the balcony, where there was a little table with two chairs.

“No Koi pond here either, sadly.”

“I’ll cope,” Sam replied weakly, turning back to look at Gabriel in the moonlight. Unable to help himself, he crossed the room to kiss the older man again, slow and gentle this time.

“Get cleaned up,” Gabriel reminded him after a few soft minutes. He gestured through to the bathroom, all grey stone and cream marble, complete with a green wall of ferns. Sam murmured a _fuck yes_ when he saw the monsoon shower.

He washed quickly, not wanting to lose out on any time with Gabriel. He scrubbed briefly at his skin, trying to process the shock that the perfect man, currently waiting for him out on the balcony, was willing to offer him so much.

He _could_ have this, couldn’t he? It was OK? It felt too good to be true, Gabriel felt too good to be true, but here Sam was… he could have this. Gabriel was offering; Sam wasn’t taking or stealing or conning. He wasn’t taking advantage, wasn’t selling his body, wasn’t running a ploy. Gabriel was showing him respect, kindness, honesty… and Sam… Sam was giving nothing but deceit in return, was spinning a web of lies already, oh God…

_No_ , he told himself, shutting off the shower and grabbing a towel to dry off with. Gabriel might not know the truth, and Sam wasn’t proud of that. But he wasn’t doing anything wrong. That was enough.

Back in the bedroom, Sam padded to the bed and climbed naked under the blankets, looking beseechingly at Gabriel when he came in from the balcony. He was too sleepy to formulate the words to ask, but Gabriel seemed to understand what he needed.

He stroked back some of Sam’s damp hair and settled down next to him, on top of the covers but cradling Sam in his arms.

Pressing himself Gabriel’s side, Sam sank into warm sleep with a contented sigh, the sound of the sea lulling his thoughts to nothing.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam woke up alone the next morning, marvelling at how good it was to actually feel safe and cared for. The air in this house was dry and warm, and even though Gabriel wasn’t in bed with him anymore, he comforted himself with the fact that it was Sunday. Gabriel was probably somewhere in the massive house, doing whatever it was that billionaire CEOs did late on Sunday mornings.

He looked around the room properly, having not really taken much in the previous night. The bed was made up with white sheets and a navy-blue duvet, all of which looked to have an impossibly high thread count. The bed, the dresser, the desk and its chair were the same sort of blonde wood, and navy curtains could block the view from the door out onto the balcony, if Sam wished. Above the bed, there was a painting of blues, pinks, and greys melding together, giving the impression of dawn’s light on water. It was peaceful, restful, and he soon found himself dozing off again, too comfortable to move.

After eventually dragging himself out of bed sometime later, Sam enjoyed another shower, pleased by the fact that he actually fit under this one. He stared up at the blue sky visible through the skylight above him as he washed his hair, thoughts drifting about like the lazy clouds, not settling on anything in particular.

Once he was dressed and feeling semi-awake, Sam explored the rest of the top floor of the house, peeking into the other bedrooms. He steered clear of Gabriel’s bedroom, though, despite the door being open, not wanting to invade his privacy.

After seeing all the other guest rooms, Sam was convinced his was the best; its blue scheme was relaxing, as opposed to the one that seemed to be solely decorated with bright yellow Valentino Rossi memorabilia. The room next to Sam’s was done up in greens and browns with brass accents, and the colours reminded Sam so painfully and tangibly of Dean, for some reason, that he shut that door very quickly.

He looked around the middle level of the house a bit more as he searched for Gabriel. It contained not only the arcade that Gabriel had mentioned last night, but also a cinema room complete with plush red sofas and candy floss and popcorn machines, and another room that was basically just a giant mattress sunk into the floor before a fireplace, with a bar running along one wall.

Sam had to wonder why Gabriel’s office was on this floor too, because it all seemed too distracting, too much for entertaining. He tapped on the office door but there was no answer, so he headed down to the ground floor.

He was taking a closer look at the koi pond under the stairs, the fish gliding around mossy rocks and beneath the pale pink waterlilies, when he heard Gabriel calling out to him.

“Campbell? Baby? You up?”

Sam cringed a little, hating how he was continuing to cement the lie of his fake identity. But Sam Winchester wasn’t the one here with Gabriel, Campbell Wesson was.

And so.

“Yeah, I’m finally up,” he called back. “Where are you?”

Sam hadn’t seen this level at all last night, having been too sleepy and mind blown from Gabriel’s mouth. It was all largely open plan, the rooms just blending straight into one another, but he hadn’t spotted Gabriel yet.

“Kitchen!”

“Marco?”

“Polo!”

Sam followed Gabriel’s voice through a formal dining space with a large table that looked as though it was never used, then past another bar, the walls behind it lined with liquor bottles, before he finally found the kitchen.

Gabriel, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved dark shirt, was cracking eggs into a bowl. He was standing at a white marble counter that looked to be about the same size as the block that Michelangelo’s David must have been constructed from.

“Morning, baby. You hungry?” he asked when Sam shuffled in.

“Yeah, starving actually,” Sam realised, as he settled down on one of those designer type barstools that looked like a basic frame and seat, but probably cost over $1000. Each.

With its lime green accents, the white kitchen opened out onto a patio complete with a sunken firepit and a pool with a swim up bar. A small garden lay beyond and the sea sparkled off in the distance.

“How did you sleep?” Gabriel asked, smiling at Sam when their eyes met, before he returned his attention to the eggs he was whisking.

“Great, thanks. I actually fit in this bed, it’s amazing!”

“Wonders never cease at Casa Amor.”

Sam laughed with a slow shake of his head, trying not to let himself feel too lovestruck.

“I’m not sure I want to know why you call your house that. I might get jealous.”

“You had a preview of why last night! If you’ve forgotten already, that’s not good news for me!” Gabriel smirked at him.

“I definitely remember. If that’s just the preview, then wow, I’ll be spoilt for sure. It was incredible.”

Gabriel hummed a little in response, then reached over to squeeze Sam’s hand.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, because it has to be enough to tide you over while we get to know each other properly. Do you work tonight?”

“No,” Sam murmured, trying to keep the memory of Gabriel’s mouth on him from taking over. God could he not have _one_ conversation with the man without…?

“Uh, the… the…” He cleared his throat, then tried again to function like a normal human being. “The club’s closed Sundays. But I might call my landlord and give him my notice about the apartment. If I offer him the stuff I bought from Jo, he can market the place as furnished and might go a bit easier on me for breaking my lease.”

Gabriel made a face at the concept of trouble for Sam, his mouth scrunching up adorably.

“I’ll deal with any penalty fees. I’m the one who’s seduced you away, after all.”

Sam grinned back at him. “You certainly have.”

“Has Rufus contacted you about the car?” Gabriel asked, turning away to add a touch of butter into a pan on the lime-green stove and turning the burner on.

“Ah, no.” Admittedly, Sam had forgotten all about it.

“Hmph.” Gabriel rolled his eyes, then shot Sam another smile. “He’s probably too hungover. I’ll call him. You sure you wanted to sell it for parts?”

“Yeah, it’s good for nothing else,” Sam confirmed with a shrug. “I’ll be lucky to make $10 off it.”

“I’ll sort out the insurance forms for you to use any of my cars later,” Gabriel didn’t seem bothered by the thought of filling out paperwork on a Sunday, which Sam admired him for. “Now, after I’ve plied you with probably inedible scrambled eggs, what did you want to do today, baby?”

Sam let his smirk speak for itself, and Gabriel rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“OK, I brought that one on myself. Other than _that_?”

“Um, I figured I’ll draft up my resignation letter for the King of Hell. We’ll shut down over Christmas, so I want to get it in before then. Even if I don’t get into Stanford, I’m definitely ready to leave the club.”

“It’s all your choice,” Gabriel said, as he poured the eggs into the warm pan. “Also, I meant to ask what your plans are for Christmas? It’s not that far away.”

“I’m going to get undressed, wrap myself up in ribbon and wait for you under your tree,” Sam indicated back to the pine Christmas tree that was just visible in the living room down the other end of the house.

Gabriel went still, then pulled in a deep breath.

“Baby boy,” he murmured, his voice silken. “Please refrain from trying to give me an erection when I’m standing at a hot stove…”

Sam laughed again and held up his hands. “Sorry! Uh, I’m going to Jo and Benny’s for the day. Unless…?”

“As much as I would genuinely love to stay here and spend the holidays with you, I have to go to the usual Novak family gathering. My brother Castiel is hosting this year at his place in Boston,” Gabriel looked irritated already by the thought of having to attend.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of Castiel Novak,” Sam admitted; every single member of Gabriel’s family was almost disturbingly well-known, but this name wasn’t familiar.

“You wouldn’t, but that’s by design. He’s the family accountant. He likes his peace and quiet, not that there’s much of that going around in our brood. There’s a reason Christmas is the only holiday we gather for. Last year Zach took a whole fruitcake to the face when he pissed Uriel off too much. Raphael left in disgust after ten minutes; despite the fact it was his own house! Dad gave up trying to soothe things over and went back to bed. The rest of us were drunk on mulled wine by 11am!”

Gabriel chuckled as he spoke, his eyes not leaving the eggs in the pan.

Sam smiled, trying to keep his own memory from dredging up all the crappy holidays he’d spent in motel rooms with his dad and brother. Dean would work his ass off trying to make it festive and fun for him. Dad drank himself to sleep by 4pm every year without fail, too heartbroken over their mom to cope in any other way, even after all this time.

Gabriel didn’t ask about his family, and Sam couldn’t bring himself to volunteer anything, so he simply smiled and thanked him when Gabriel dished up his eggs and produced a plate of bacon from a warming drawer.

They chatted a little longer, sitting together at the counter. Gabriel was curious about Sam’s Stanford application and asked if he needed help with his letter to Crowley. Sam politely turned him down, insisting that simply writing “Stick your priest costume up your ass,” wasn’t a very professional way of resigning.

All in all, it was pretty much the best day Sam could ever remember having, which was kind of sad, really.

Things worked out well with his landlord, who didn’t seem to care in the slightest that Sam was breaking his lease and was surprisingly excited at the idea of getting his second-hand furniture for free. Sam winced a little in guilt, debating whether he should admit the stuff wasn’t in the best condition. The headboard of the bed was warped and three of the legs of the dining table were held on with duct tape. But then he remembered the stink of mildew in the bathroom, the thick damp air, and kept his mouth shut.

After a late lunch, which involved Gabriel almost starting a fire making grilled cheese, Sam typed up his resignation letter to Crowley. When he finally closed his laptop in the late afternoon, he spent the rest of his time before dinner exploring more of the house and playing with Skadi out in the garden.

He felt at peace, excited. Happy. Safe. He’d been here less than twenty-four hours, but he felt comfortable with Gabriel. It was a strange sensation, but the feeling of being hunted, chased, knowing his father and brother were out there, didn’t seem to penetrate through the walls of Gabriel’s house. He was protected here. They couldn’t get him here. No one could get him here. Gabriel wouldn’t let them.

He was Campbell Wesson, now, and Campbell Wesson was safe. Sam Winchester was gone, dead, buried, salted and burned, locked away. Sam Winchester didn’t exist. Gabriel never needed to know that Sam Winchester had even existed at all.

He tapped on Gabriel’s office door when the dinner Gabriel had ordered arrived later in the evening – since when did Atelier Crenn deliver? Gabriel called out for him to come in, and Sam stuck his head around the door, then swore in the same instant. It was no wonder Gabriel had his office here at this end of the house, directly below his bedroom. The view from the floor-to-ceiling window was _incredible_ , the bridge in the distance, the darkening sky, the iron-grey sea.

“Pretty awesome, huh?” Gabriel remarked, standing up and making grabby hands for the food containers.

There was a couch next to a fireplace by one wall, a Skittles dispenser within arm’s reach of Gabriel’s desk, and a spiral staircase which must lead up directly to his bedroom. Sam was so busy staring around that he startled when Gabriel wound an arm around his waist tugged him back out the door.

They ended up eating on the sunken couch bed thing in what Gabriel called the bar room, before Sam pointed out that he’d seen at least four other bar areas in the house, so how was this one the designated bar room but the others weren’t? Gabriel laughed the question aside as they lounged in front of the fireplace that backed onto the one in Gabriel’s office.

Sam couldn’t quite get over any of it, shaking his head in wonder as he sipped the wine Gabriel had poured after they’d eaten.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it? You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to. You’d think the amount it costs would mean it tastes good, but meh,” Gabriel reassured him as he lifted their empty plates up onto the counter.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m just… trying to figure out how this is my life? Three days ago, I finally speak to you for the first time after months of staring at you from across the room, because I couldn’t work up the courage to approach you. Now I’m with you. I’m with you, sitting on a floor that’s actually a bed, in a room that’s bigger than my apartment, drinking wine that costs more than my rent…”

“It’s all just stuff,” Gabriel pointed out as he shrugged down at the floor and gestured at his wine glass. “It’s better stuff than most people get to access, and I come from a place of extreme privilege, I acknowledge that. But it’s just stuff, really. If I were sitting with you on your apartment floor, eating salad, and drinking tap water, I would be just as happy. The stuff doesn’t matter. That is, assuming we wouldn’t die of mould poisoning in the process.”

“I dunno why you think I’m worth rescuing from the shitty life I was living,” Sam laughed, because yeah, mould poisoning was an inevitable issue for whoever had to live in his apartment next.

“I told you the other day; it’s your ass. It’s too perfect…”

Sam smacked him with a throw-pillow, and Gabriel rolled away to a safe distance, laughing, before he cocked his head to one side and studied Sam from his prone position.

“You’re wrong, though, Campbell. I’m not rescuing you. You don’t need rescuing. You work a perfectly legitimate job; you make your own money and provide for yourself; you’re trying to get into college to better your circumstances and opportunities. You were doing that before I came along, and even if I hadn’t, you’d still be on the exact same path. I’d have kept my nose out of it if I hadn’t been concerned for the state of your lungs. All I’m providing here is a more comfortable roof over your head while you get your feet under you.”

“And amazing blowjobs.”

“You had _one_ ,” Gabriel waved a finger at him, then laughed when Sam pouted. “Not plural. Not yet at least.”

“I never returned the favour, you know, which is pretty rude of me,” Sam pointed out, taking the opportunity to crawl over and pin Gabriel down by the shoulders. He let his mouth dip to taste the exposed skin of the older man’s collarbone.

Smirking up at him, Gabriel didn’t look the least bit bothered. “Sorry, baby. Nope. We have an agreement, remember.”

“Don’t you want me?” Sam teased and was completely unprepared for the ferocious kiss he received in response.

“So badly,” Gabriel murmured, when they parted. “But I’ll stick to our arrangement, thanks.”

Sam sighed and eased himself off, flopping to lie on his back at Gabriel’s side instead. “Fine. And how long is my curfew going to last?”

Gabriel giggled at him, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Curfew? My God, baby boy, you _are_ going to be fun! But no, you’re not getting _anything_ until things get sorted out and settled for you. I don’t want to distract you from the application.”

Sam looked over at his profile and heaved another dramatic sigh, muttering that Gabriel himself was a distraction, but decided to keep it to himself that he had a few tricks up his sleeve to speed things along.

*

Sam woke the next morning to the sound of the sea under his window and revelled in languishing in bed a little longer. It was just before 9am, so he was pretty sure Gabriel had long since left for the day; he’d told Sam last night while cuddling him to sleep that he had a big meeting with a bunch of ‘douchebags’ bright and early.

Once he got up, Sam wandered around the house, eating a plate of toast, and drinking a huge mug of coffee from Gabriel’s fancy lime-green Keurig machine. Skadi followed him about, wanting to share his breakfast. Gabriel had one of the rich local kids come over to walk her in the afternoons, and she had a dog-flap to get out into the little backyard when she wanted to, but Sam kept to her pace all the same, enjoying the company.

He checked his phone as he drank his second cup of coffee and waited for his ancient laptop to boot, sitting at the desk in his bedroom looking out over the ocean. Skadi settled down on the grey rug at his feet and dozed off immediately in a patch of sunlight. Sam envied her a little bit, but he had work to do.

He had a text waiting from Dean asking if he was still alive, to which he sent back a _Y_ and nothing else. He was idly texting Brady – his one friend not associated with ‘Kings’ – about the latest Thunder vs. Bulls game when a message from Gabriel popped up on his phone.

It was a series of dead emoji faces.

_Still in your meeting? That bored?_ Sam typed, as he opened the document of his resignation letter to Crowley. He quickly decided the letter was fine, not wanting to waste energy obsessing over it, and sent it to the wireless printer down in Gabriel’s office.

_I could literally be dead, and I wouldn’t know the difference._

_Well, we could think of a few things to do that might make your day more interesting_.

Sam went to collect his page from downstairs. When he returned there was a reply from Gabriel.

_Like what? I’m all ears baby boy, anything to relieve this mind-numbing boredom. If one more person uses the word ‘synergy’, I’m firing them._

_We could play a game. And no one knows what that word means, they all just pretend cos they think it will make them look stupid to admit they don’t._

_I bet you know what it means. I sure don’t. What game?_

_A guessing game. Try guess what colour underwear I’m wearing._

_Dammit baby…_

_Do you want to know what you get if you win?_

_I’m sure you’ll tell me anyway._

Sam just sent back a smiley face and the camera emoji as he loaded the webpage of his Stanford application.

_I’m in a room full of people, baby_.

_I didn’t say you had to start playing immediately._

_Argh. You little tease. I’ll text you back after lunch, have a good morning._

Sam laughed out loud to himself, apologised to Skadi when it woke her because he wasn’t a _complete_ monster, then settled down to work.

He was just keeping an eye on the time and starting to think about leaving for the club – he’d pulled the early cleaning shift, which sucked – when Gabriel finally texted him back.

_Black?_

_Nope_

_How many guesses do I get?_

_As many as it takes. I want to give you your reward._

_Bright red with white polka dots?_

_Of course, you’re so right_ , Sam snorted as he stood and stretched.

_Hey, do you have a preference for which of your cars I borrow?_

_Nah. Whichever. Not the motorbike if you don’t have a license for one, though. I’ve got the Porsche today._

_White?_

_Nope_

Sam appraised himself in the mirror, nudged Skadi out the door with his foot, and undid his fly. He parted his jeans to reveal just enough bare skin for Gabriel to be able to tell he was going commando.

_LA Kings merch?_

_Do they sell underwear? No. And I support the Spurs._

Sam snapped a picture of his reflection, checked it, and grinned to himself as he did his jeans back up and headed out the door.

_You from Texas? You don’t sound it._

_Born and bred in Kansas, but that was a million years ago, I’ve lived everywhere else since._

_I’ll give you a hint._

Sam took the Ferrari key from the hook in the garage, carefully set the house alarm behind him, then followed his text with his selfie before he got in the car. He didn’t dare look at his phone while driving, he was too scared of anything happening to the car.

Gabriel had sent him back a chain of fire emojis, which made Sam laugh and loosened his nerves as he let himself into the club and headed up to Crowley’s office.

Crowley didn’t look up from his computer when Sam tapped on the open door and slid into the room. When his boss simply held out an expectant hand, Sam placed his letter in it. Crowley immediately threw into his recycling tray.

“Gabriel’s staking his claim so soon? How _romantic_.”

“That’s not what it’s about.”

“Don’t be foolish, sweetie darling. It so very much is.”

“Are you not accepting my resignation?”

“Of course I am, moose. It was nice to have you, you’ll be sorely missed, don’t let the door hit you on your way out… yada yada yada.”

“Whatever, Crowley. Two weeks from today is December 22nd. So that’s my last day.”

Crowley gave him an obnoxious salute, which Sam took to signify that the conversation was over, but Crowley called him back just as he was walking through the door.

“I’m surprised at you, Campbell. Surprised, and very disappointed.”

Sam bristled, but tried not to give in to the anger flaring in his veins. Crowley excelled at this, lived for it; he loved nothing more than to tear people down. “I can’t imagine why you think your opinion matters to me in the slightest.”

“Because my opinion is based on fact, moose. I’ve known Gabriel Novak for years. He’s been a high-paying customer here for near to a _decade_.”

“He’s only been coming a few months…” Sam floundered, confused and thrown. He’d started working at ‘Kings’ in May but had only first noticed Gabriel at the bar in September…

“A few months _of_ _this year_! He had his little heart broken by his previous pet project, which he also stole from my employ. One of the best dancers I ever hired! Gabriel certainly liked him. He flashed his charm, and plenty of money, and swept Patrick clean off his feet; Patrick quit, saying he was in love,” Crowley made a face at the word, then carried on. “No sign of either of them again until Gabriel popped back up a few months ago, his usual amiable self, and you’re the latest of my boys to fall hook, line and sinker into his arms. Maybe I should start charging him a finder’s fee? Because you weren’t the first to be ‘saved’ from this den of iniquity by Gabriel Novak, and you’re a complete idiot _if you think you’ll be the last_!”

The last words were screamed at Sam across the space between them, Crowley red-faced with anger, and Sam’s bones chilled at his words. But it wasn’t the man on the other side of the desk that frightened him.

“Twenty-second. My last day,” Sam repeated, forcing up his façade, the mask of bored indifference he always used when questioned by suspicious cops or angry detectives, his safety, his default.

“Good riddance to you,” Crowley muttered to his departing back as Sam retreated down to the floor.

Sam kept his guard up all night, barely saying anything to anyone, focusing on his work. He lingered in an odd emotional zone between angry and scared, and he didn’t know what the fuck to do about it. He was livid that Gabriel would keep it from him that he’d seen other guys from the club in the past, and even more furious that Crowley would take so much pleasure in trying to ruin the first gleam of happiness Sam had ever managed to find.

Most of all, Sam was terrified of the possibility that Gabriel would get bored of him, that Sam would prove unworthy after all, or that someone else might catch his eye and Sam would be cast out and alone again, in danger, unloved and hunted.

Jo tolerated his surly temper for all of ten minutes before she started hounding him to find out what was wrong, but he ignored her nagging. He snapped at Pamela twice before she slapped him across the face and dragged him by the ear into the chilled wine cellar to interrogate him.

“What the hell is going on with you, Campbell? Talk to me like that again, boy, and you’ll soon find out how much of this boot I can wedge up your ass!”

“Sorry,” Sam mumbled, too upset to look her in the eye.

“What’s happened?”

“Someone named Patrick _happened_ , apparently.”

Pam raised her chin, not looking surprised. But then why would she? She’d worked at ‘Kings’ since it’s opening and had obviously known Gabriel since he’d first started coming to the club, however many years ago that actually was.

“Did Gabriel tell you about him? Or was it just Crowley being a shit-stirring bitch?”

“The King of Hell himself,” Sam spat. “Gabriel hasn’t said a single thing. And you’ve all kept your mouths shut, too!”

He slapped a palm against a shelf in agitation, making wine bottles rattle.

“It wasn’t for anyone else to mention. It’s up to Gabriel. He was heartbroken after Patrick fucked him over! Of course he doesn’t want to talk about it! Do you want to talk about every painful breakup you’ve ever had with everyone you’ve ever been in love with?!”

Sam opened his mouth to snap back _no, of course not, I haven’t been in love before Gabriel_ , but shut himself up in time.

“Look,” Pamela placated him with a hand on his arm, and covertly copped a feel of his bicep while she was at it, because of course she did. “Crowley’s the biggest prick I’ve ever come across. Don’t let him get between you and Gabriel. Gabe is a good guy; you already know that. If you asked him about Patrick, he’d tell you. He’s not keeping secrets from you. He’s just trying to preserve his heart this time.”

“Crowley said there were others...”

“None he’s loved before, like Patrick. And none he’s given his heart to so quickly, like you. The way he looks at you… God, Campbell, can’t you see the panic in his eyes?”

“Panic?” Sam murmured, hope blooming thick in his chest.

“He doesn’t want to feel so strongly for you so soon, but he absolutely does. Don’t let Crowley fuck things up without at least talking to Gabriel. OK?”

“Yeah. Yeah. OK.”

For the rest of the night Sam tried to mull over all that he had been told by third parties, without confusing it too much with anything Gabriel had actually said for himself and his own feelings for the man. He brooded right up until he was parking in the garage at home and locking up behind him. Then he dragged his weary body up the two flights of stairs to tap on Gabriel’s bedroom door.

Gabe was sleepy as he greeted him with a hug and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Evening, my baby boy, how was your shift?”

“Who’s Patrick?”

Gabriel looked a little taken aback, then shook his head and rubbed at his tired eyes with a rueful chuckle. “I should have guessed Crowley wouldn’t let you go without a fight, and of course he fights dirty. Look, come in. I don’t want to talk about Patrick without a stiff drink.”

He offered a hand to Sam, who took it and let himself be tugged into the bedroom.

The room was in darkness except for a lamp on by the bed and the view of the stars through the half-closed curtains, but Sam couldn’t let himself be distracted by that. Gabriel gestured for him to sit on the sofa next to the spiral staircase and pulled open a cabinet to reveal a bar recessed into the wall.

“Does every freaking room here have a bar?” Sam muttered, accepting the glass of whiskey offered to him.

“You’d be surprised. You haven’t found the one next to your bathtub yet?”

“Wait, what?”

Gabriel just laughed as he sat down next to him, then shook his head. “Let’s not get side-tracked. Patrick.”

“He was a stripper at Kings, I’m told? I’ve never heard of him.”

Gabriel just shrugged. “I think the turnover is high there? Yeah, he danced. We met… uh, eighteen months ago now, I guess? We were together until about February this year. He stopped working for Crowley, moved in here with me. I thought everything was rainbows and roses, until I came home one day to find he’d nicked as much as he could bundle into my Jaguar and scarpered. It was probably his plan all along, and I fell for it like a total fool. I should have known Crowley would twist things to throw it in your face. Patrick made him a lot of money and he’s held a grudge ever since I ‘stole’ him.”

Gabriel recited it all, his voice factual and calm, but Sam could see the pain on his face. He reached out to touch him, ran a hand down his shoulder, and Gabriel offered him a slight smile.

“More importantly, are you all right?” Gabriel asked, looked so concerned that Sam’s mouth fell open.

“Am I OK?? You were _robbed_ , and you want to know if I’m OK?”

“You’re more important to me than bad memories and the loss of a car. Fucking Crowley, trying to stir shit!” Gabriel’s face twisted in anger before he took a long swig of his drink.

“It was a shock to hear about it, yeah. I won’t pretend I haven’t been a bit messed up all night,” Sam admitted. “But I know Crowley and I’m very familiar with the joy it gives him to hurt people. I just wish… I wish it hadn’t happened to you. I’m sorry.”

“Crowley’s certainly a grade-A jerk,” Gabriel agreed, draining his drink. “But Patrick is the reason why I’m trying to be careful with you, trying to exercise some control. It’s not that I don’t want you, or that I don’t trust you. I do. I just want to get it right this time. I’m not trying to impress you and spoil you to keep you interested in me. I don’t want to be your sugar daddy. I want a real, genuine, honest relationship with you, not one based on lust and money.”

“I know. I want that too,” Sam soothed, shooting back his drink in one as he ran a hand from Gabriel’s jaw and down to his neck. He put his glass on the floor and then straightened up to tug Gabriel into a long kiss. Gabriel wound his arms around Sam’s waist in response, then teased a finger down the fly of his jeans.

“Glad we’re on the same page. So, you still commando under there?”

“Want to check?”

“More than anything,” Gabriel growled back, kissing him fierce and demanding until Sam was panting to drag in a breath against his lips. Just when he was about to shove Gabriel down onto the floor so they could get horizontal together as quickly as possible, Gabriel pulled away from him, a glint in his eye.

“Buuut, I gotta hit the hay, gorgeous. Early start and all that.” That smirk alone curled desire all through Sam’s veins.

“You can’t be serious,” Sam groaned, letting his head fall onto Gabriel’s chest, his cock already very interested in continuing.

“Oh, but I am completely serious,” Gabriel chirped back, sounding far too pleased with himself. “Consider it payback for your little ‘game’ earlier today. Have fun trying to get to sleep now, baby!”

Sam whined wordlessly at him, but Gabriel just laughed and ruffled his hair before he pulled him to his feet.

Unable to keep from scowling over his shoulder once he reached his door, Sam shot Gabriel a long look.

“I think I’ll investigate the bathtub, since you mentioned it. _You_ have fun thinking about _that_!”

“Oh, I will,” Gabriel leered with a wink, not looking the least bit concerned.

Sam left his bedroom and bathroom doors wide open, but Gabriel seemed to have the higher tolerance; even Sam wailing his name as he writhed under his own hands in the warm water, his feet slipping for purchase on the porcelain of the bathtub, didn’t net him the man he wanted so very badly.

_No matter_ , Sam consoled himself as he lay sated and panting for breath in the steamed-up bathroom, watching the stars through the skylight. _There’s time_.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam spent a large part of the next morning in Gabriel’s gym, needing to push himself to the point of exhaustion just to get the man off his mind. After an hour of cardio, and not wanting to risk weight training without a spotter, he showered off the sweat in the gym’s bathroom and finally felt weary enough to focus on something other than his need for Gabriel.

But as he ambled to the stairs in nothing but a low-slung towel, which was wrapped not very securely around his hips, a harried-looking Gabriel suddenly swept through the front door.

He stopped dead with a small gasp when he saw Sam, his eyes going wide as they slid down his bare torso. Sam grinned in response at his look of shock, pleased at another opportunity to get under Gabriel’s skin.

“Hi,” Gabriel murmured weakly, his gaze fixating on the loosely knotted towel around Sam’s waist.

“Hey! What are you doing back?”

“Forgot a file…” Gabriel trailed off, and when he finally lifted his eyes back to Sam’s face, he scowled at the smirk he found there. “Knock it off. This is difficult enough as it is.”

Sam just laughed before raising his hands defensively. “I just finished working out. I didn’t know you were coming home! I’m completely innocent!”

“The day you’re innocent is the day Crowley gets up on his own stage and does the macarena.” Gabriel did at least give Sam a quick kiss as he passed, heading upstairs to his office.

Sam trailed after him to lean on the doorframe and pointedly fiddled with the knot of his towel, watching Gabriel rifle through his desk drawers.

“If you drop that towel, then so help me God…” Gabriel’s tone held a note of warning, though he didn’t look up from his search for whatever he was after.

“You’ll what? Spank me?”

Gabriel’s eyes, suddenly very dark, flicked up to Sam’s face as his search completely halted.

Sam grinned as he took a hold of his towel with one hand and gave it enough of a tug that the knot came undone, though he kept it held in place around his hips.

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Your little adventure in your bathtub last night didn’t satisfy you?”

“Not nearly enough,” Sam shrugged. “Turns out two fingers just can’t cut it when I know the real thing is in the next room.”

“Two fingers? That’s not nearly enough to imitate me. Double it next time,” Gabriel muttered, finally letting out a little ‘ah-ha’ when he pulled an A4 envelope of papers from his drawer.

It was Sam’s turn to get breathless, the off-hand comment having a very clear effect, but he was far from ashamed of how hard he was getting under the scant protection of the towel. The anticipation that Gabriel had insisted on building between them was also starting to drive him mad, and it was showing.

Gabriel noticed and stalked over to steal another long kiss, drawing Sam’s tongue into his mouth and sucking on it until Sam’s head swam. When he pulled away to ask if Sam was hungry, the change of pace was so surprising that it took Sam’s brain a moment to catch up.

“What…? Uh. I guess?”

“Go get dressed, baby, and I’ll take you out to lunch,” Gabriel insisted. “You can come check out my office after and head to work from there if you like. I did say there would be wooing. And I think we need to get on to that, because you look good enough to eat right now, and I don’t think I can stand to have this conversation much longer.”

Sam burst out laughing, before he managed to reply, “Yeah, sure, let’s go eat.”

He pointedly handed Gabriel his damp towel before he headed upstairs to dress, enjoying the choked-out moan that followed him down the hallway, echoing in his ears.

*

The sushi place they ate at near Gabriel’s office was incredible, and Sam quizzed Gabriel about his company between bites of tuna sashimi. Gabriel had started Novatech after graduating from MIT and had been primarily funded, at first, by his father.

That surprised Sam. Chuck Novak was an almost famously recluse novelist – no one really even knew what he looked like as he never appeared in public. As Sam understood it, Chuck lived eleven months of the year in a cabin up in Alaska, and had little to do with his grown-up family. A sad situation to Sam, but Gabriel’s mother, Naomi, seemed to prefer the arrangement too. She had occupied a governmental role in defence that Sam was pretty sure meant she had been the head of the CIA in her day. Her son Michael had inherited her position – Gabriel seemed to smirk unconsciously whenever he heard his oldest brother’s name, but Sam didn’t push to know why. He knew all about fraught family dynamics, especially between brothers.

“So, what are your employees going to think about you dating a waiter from a strip club?” Sam asked, when they were back in the yellow Cadillac and driving down Market Street. He was a little nervous about actually arriving at the office. OK, very nervous.

He steeled himself for Gabriel to ask that he keep his work quiet, but Gabriel surprised him with a simple smile as he pulled into the parking garage of the office.

“I don’t pay them to think; I pay them to do as they’re told and make me lots of money so I can buy myself more Koi fish,” Gabriel joked, before he took a hand from the wheel to tangle his fingers through Sam’s.

“I don’t care what their opinions may be about your job. But there is no way any of them are going to look at you and think anything except that I am the luckiest guy in the world. I’m not ashamed of how we met or what you do, and you have nothing to be ashamed of either.”

Sam managed to smile weakly as Gabriel parked and kept it in place even as he was tugged over to the garage elevator by the hand.

“Stop panicking, baby,” Gabriel murmured over his shoulder to Sam as they stepped inside the lift and he hit the button for the top floor.

“I’m not.” The lie was instinctual, but badly delivered. Sam _wanted_ to make a good impression. On these people and on Gabriel.

Gabriel eyed him for a long moment, then stretched up on his toes and kissed him and didn’t stop kissing him until the doors were pinging and Sam couldn’t remember what he was feeling so nervous about after all.

“Charlie!” a male voice called out as the elevator opened, displaying a brightly lit foyer with metallic gold walls and a receptionist blatantly staring at them with his head cocked to one side. “Charlie! My uncle Gabriel is having sex in the elevator again!”

“Oh please, like you wouldn’t if you knew what went where!” Gabriel scoffed, and the kid broke out in a grin in response.

“Campbell, baby, meet my nephew, Jack. He’s interning for us, which means he does nothing even remotely useful. Jackie, this is Campbell, my boyfriend.”

The boy popped up from behind his monitor and shook Sam’s hand with a smile.

“So, you’re going to be my uncle now too?”

“Haha,” Gabriel shoved Jack back down onto his seat. “Get back to work, you little shit.”

The kid was just opening his mouth to retort when Charlie Bradbury, Gabriel’s second-in-command, appeared from out of a nearby room that seemed to have one wall dedicated to computer monitors and another to vending machines full of candy bars.

“Gabriel! No sex in the elevator! How many times do I have to tell you!?”

“If the kid thinks that was sex, I feel sorry for him. What do they teach them down in LA, huh?”

Jack’s father was Lucifer Novak, a prestigious plastic surgeon in LA, who had his own reality TV show (Dean was a fan). Sam didn’t know much else about the guy, but his son seemed nice enough.

“Who’s this?!” Charlie chirped as she turned to Sam, who stuck out his hand to her.

“I’m Campbell, nice to meet you.”

Charlie beamed up at him as she shook his hand, until Gabriel sing-songed the word _boyfriend_. Then she screamed in excitement and threw her arms around Sam in a hug.

“I knew it! I knew there was a reason he was whistling the other day! And why he kept checking his phone!”

“Alright, geez, don’t make it so obvious that I like him…” Gabriel muttered, before he opened a random nearby door and shoved her through it. “OK, thanks, bye!”

Gabriel’s employees, it turned out, were actually awesome. And they all seemed beyond pleased to meet Sam. Or rather, Campbell. The twisting guilt aside, Sam felt weirdly comfortable as he wandered the corridors and offices with Gabriel’s hand in his.

“Why is there a cardboard cut-out of Prince over there?” Sam asked, following Gabriel to his office at last after having finally met everyone on the floor.

“What hallway is truly complete without one?” Gabriel replied, unlocking his door, and holding it open for him.

Sam shook his head with a laugh as he peered about at the room’s screaming orange walls, then headed over to the window to check out the view of the street below. Charlie appeared in the doorway and grabbed Gabriel’s arm before he could even make it to his desk along the back wall.

“Need your signature on a few things, gotta steal you for a minute!”

“Can’t you just forge it?” Gabriel groaned at her, but she shook her head and frog-marched him ahead of her back out the door.

“I’ll just be a sec. Don’t touch anything while I’m gone, or you might delete the Internet!” Gabriel called back to Sam before he started bickering with Charlie about how to actually achieve such a thing.

Sam was transfixed by the view below for a while, the cars, and little dots of pedestrians. Once he got bored of that, he developed a fascination for the neon yellow statue of Cristiano Ronaldo that was inexplicably standing in one corner of the room. He was just wandering over for a closer look when the door opened again, and a beautiful woman in a short black dress strode in.

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion as she studied him, and he started to cross the room to greet her when she spoke, her tone icy.

“Who the hell are you and how the fuck did you get in here?”

Sam stopped, a little surprised at her aggression. “Ah, sorry, we haven’t met yet. I’m Gabriel’s boyfriend, Campbell.”

“You’re his flavour of the month, not his boyfriend!” She snorted, and Sam hated her instantly. “If you do anything to hurt him, I will have you hunted down and killed.”

“Wow. OK then…”

“Let me guess, you’re another good for nothing stray that he picked up off the street?”

“Nope,” Sam smirked at her. “I work at a strip club. And I’m damn good at it, too. Gabriel’s certainly a huge fan.”

Her nostrils flared, and he took a lot of joy in the murderous expression that settled over her face. He was taking liberties with the truth, but by God did he already want to knock her down a few pegs.

“If you break his heart, I’ll rip yours right out of your chest.”

With that, she turned on her Louboutin’s and left.

Sam was still scowling at the door when Gabriel came bowling back in.

“Honey, I’m home! Did you miss…? Oh. Don’t tell me. From the look on your face a harpy named Kali just gave you a verbal dressing down?”

“Oh, that was her name? She didn’t have time to tell me because she was too busy threatening murder,” Sam muttered, still a little thrown by the woman’s hostility.

Gabriel just grinned as amiably as ever, before he bounded across the ludicrously purple carpet to plunge his hands into the back pockets of Sam’s jeans.

“She thinks she’s protecting me by blowing hot. Forget about her.”

That was easy to do with those fingers stroking his ass through the denim, and Sam nudged Gabriel’s forehead back with his own so he could kiss him again at last.

*

A week later, Sam let himself into the house, weary and yawning at 2am, and thought that he had walked into a wall of sheer, physical noise.

He only had a few days left until he was done at ‘Kings’, and he was starting to fixate in panic on his Stanford application. He’d been turning it over in his head all evening, so much so that Gabriel’s party had completely slipped his mind.

“Campbell! Long time, no see!”

How the heck had Pamela beaten him here? She’d been restocking the bar when Sam had left, but somehow there she was in the foyer. She gave him a hug, a bottle of beer in her hand and Ash in tow.

“Hi, again,” Sam murmured, glancing over her head as he took in the masses of people clustered about the various open areas of the ground floor as music pumped from the speakers in the walls. “I completely forgot this was happening. Uh, have you seen Gabriel?”

“He was upstairs in the arcade last I saw, about an hour ago,” Ash reported, swigging on his beer.

“An hour… What time did you get here?!”

“At about midnight. This party is sick, man!”

Sam squinted at him in confusion, then shook his head. Ash was only supposed to have finished his shift half an hour ago, but whatever. Trying to keep tabs on Ash was so impossible that even Crowley didn’t bother.

Sam let go of Pamela and swatted her hand away from his ass as he headed to stairs, pausing to scoop an empty chip packet out of the koi pond, huffing in annoyance that his fish could have been suffocated by it.

Gabriel was holding court in the room with the bed-floor, it seemed, surrounded as he was by far too many beautiful women. One was trying to tuck herself into Gabriel’s side, her hand sliding over his chest and between the buttons of his shirt. Sam’s heart skipped a few beats as he watched from the open doorway, his blood turning frigid in his veins.

Gabriel immediately removed the girl’s hand without even acknowledging her. A few moments later he spotted Sam and sprang to his feet to bound over to him. He was clearly a bit drunk, if the enthusiastically clumsy kiss Sam received in greeting was anything to go by.

“Campbell! My baby boy! I’ve missed you.”

“Clearly. Your fangirls look like they’re already missing _you_.” At least three of them were pouting over at Sam, looking jealous.

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand at them, and then tried to fuse it to Sam’s ass as he led him from the room. Sam shook it off in the process of handing him the wet chip packet.

“Fish don’t like potato chips.”

Gabriel eyed it in confusion as if he couldn’t account for what it was, then moved to lean his shoulder against the wall to stop himself swaying.

“It was in the koi pond,” Sam helped him out, trying to calm his flaring temper.

It was Gabriel’s house; he could throw raging parties from dusk till dawn every day, if he wished, and he’d given Sam plenty of warning that his Christmas party this year was going to be ‘epic’. But Sam was _tired_ and wanted a shower and to fall asleep in Gabriel’s arms, and he really needed to work on his application to Stanford because he was starting to feel sick with fear that it – he – wasn’t good enough, and Gabriel had called him Campbell – thought he was Campbell, and he was _drunk_ to boot, and that girl had touched him, and there was a _plastic_ packet in the fishpond…

“You’re upset,” Gabriel realised, reaching out for him.

“I’m not.” The worry in Gabriel’s eyes quelled the worst of Sam’s resentment, and he let Gabriel gather him close.

“Baby. My baby boy. You _are_ upset. Why? The chips?” Gabriel’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. ARE MY FISH OK??!!”

“The fish are fine, I’m pretty sure. At least, when I checked them, they all seemed OK. I just… I’m tired.”

“Oh, gorgeous, it’s fine! Upstairs is off-limits! You can get washed up and go to bed, baby. Don’t feel you have to be down here when you’ve been dealing with drunk people and loud music all night already.”

Gabriel was trying to figure what was wrong and how to fix it, but Sam didn’t know how to put all the individual things into words without it sounding petty.

He couldn’t tell Gabriel what was really bugging him; that the guilt of his lies about his identity was starting to seep from under his skin and pervade his thoughts. So, he settled on the thing that came second.

“Those girls… that girl was touching you…”

Gabriel gestured questioningly with his thumb back at the room, then shook his head, reached up to slide his hands comfortingly over Sam’s shoulders.

“Baby boy, I swear that I do not want anyone else on God’s green earth but you. I don’t even see anyone else. Those models think they can bat their eyelashes and flick their hair; I’ve had money and a well-known family all my life. Believe me, I know how to spot users. I wasn’t flirting and I wasn’t encouraging anything. I wouldn’t do that because I only want you. Only you. Only ever you.”

_You’re not as good as you think_ _you are at spotting fakes because that’s all I am, all I’ve ever been_ , Sam thought grimly, before he quickly stamped that thought down.

Yes. Yes, he was lying. Yes, every day he let those lies ingrain deeper into this relationship...

Gabriel didn’t know the truth, but Sam knew it for them both. He was in this for the right reasons, for once. Beyond lying about his identity, which Sam had been doing before he’d even met Gabriel, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. There were no tricks, no ploy, no game. He wasn’t going to flee in the night with a car crammed full of electronics. What did his name matter?

The truth was that Gabriel could be a teacher or a barista or a waiter in a strip club, and Sam would still feel just the same as he did right now. He could live in a cardboard box on the street, Sam would still want him, still need him exactly the way he had from the moment he’d spotted him at the bar.

He held that tightly in the forefront of his mind as he took Gabriel’s hands, twining their fingers together.

“Sorry for being a jerk. Crowley’s had me on all the worst jobs since I handed in my letter. I’m tired. And I’m getting really stressed about my application. And I can’t alleviate my tension through sex because a certain someone is a cruel, cruel man.”

Gabriel smirked up at him for a moment before his expression melded into a frown of sympathy, “Look, try to forget about Crowley. He’s just a – “

Sam cut off whatever he had been going to say by kissing him, not wanting to waste any more time. Seconds later he was being backed up against Gabriel’s locked office door at the end of the hall with the older man’s tongue down his throat and hand down inside his jeans, rubbing him as best he could through his briefs.

Naturally, of course, they were interrupted after just a few minutes of utter perfection.

“Gabriel! Stop having sex for a second and come meet Phoebe!”

Gabriel gave someone the finger over his shoulder, but Sam pulled his mouth away and looked up, hazily, to see Ezekiel Novak standing at the end of the hall with his arms folded, surveying them.

An actor happily type-cast into action hero roles, Ezekiel did on the big screen what his identical twin Gadreel did in real life as a Marine. Tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome, he smiled at Sam and then raised his eyebrows at his older brother. Gabriel grudgingly extracted his hands from Sam’s jeans, grumbling that it was his house, and he could do as he pleased, so fuck off, Zekey.

The brothers seemed to have some sort of non-verbal conversation conducted mostly via eyebrow movements, then Gabriel gestured for Sam to precede him back down the hall, though he kept a hand on his ass.

“Zekey, this is Campbell.”

Sam shook the proffered hand, and Ezekiel smiled at him again.

“Good to meet you, Campbell. This,” he stepped aside, revealing a woman who had been lingering behind him, “is Phoebe.”

It took all of Sam’s life-long training to keep the surprise off his face; Bela’s blue eyes widened only the barest fraction in recognition before she slipped her hand into Sam’s and beamed charmingly, façade firmly in place.

“Campbell? _Such_ a pleasure to meet you.”

Sam returned the sentiment and let her slide past him to be introduced to Gabriel, who began to loudly recite Shakespeare to her for some Gabriel-ish reason. Ezekiel grinned at his brother over her head, then turned back to Sam.

“We’ve been dispatched by Lucifer to fetch Jackie home to LA before Christmas, and I like to make it to as many of Gabriel’s parties as I can. You always meet the most interesting people. Also wanted the excuse to show Phoebe off; Gabriel’s the nicest guy in the whole family, so he’s always the one the spouses get introduced to first.”

“Spouse? You’re married?” Sam hadn’t seen Bela in a little over a year, not since she’d done a tax scam with Dean down in Miami that had only just worked by the skin of their teeth.

“Engaged,” Ezekiel beamed, and Bela waved a rock the size of a small child in Sam’s face.

“Congratulations.”

Bela gave her fiancé one of her best smoulders before she addressed Sam. “Campbell, darling, would you mind quickly showing me to the little girl’s room?”

“Of course.” Sam led her back down the hall and around the corner, then glanced around to check no one was watching before he hurried her up the stairs to the top floor, even though there were two bathrooms on the middle floor. She grabbed for his hand as soon as they were out of sight up the stairs, and once he’d shut his bedroom door behind them she flung herself into his arms.

“Sammy! Darling, I’ve been so worried! Dean’s been beside himself! Where have you been?! Here, all this time? God, you don’t aim low, do you? Gabriel Novak! Darling! How much have you nicked already?”

Sam hugged her back, ignoring her last comments in favour of letting himself enjoy a little sliver of happiness at seeing her again; someone who knew him by his real name, knew all his secrets and lies, who he didn’t have to keep a mask up around. The only person in the house, in the city, in the state, that knew who he was, that knew Sam Winchester even existed.

He’d thought when he’d run that he would be free; that Sam Winchester would be free. But his name was as worse a brand as his blood and his habits, and he was becoming increasingly scared that he would never get what he wanted – a peaceful, safe, happy life – not really. Sam Winchester seemed destined to haunt and hunt him forever.

He should never have created Campbell Wesson. Because now he would have to be Campbell Wesson until he died, and his real self was already relegated a memory.

“I heard you ducked out after a job went wrong, a credit card scam at a bank? Dean searched everywhere for you!” Bela was saying, her hands still clinging to his shoulders.

Dean, not Dad? No. Of course not. Despite his initial offer to help Sam, Dean would have ranted and raved about getting him back, tearing at his hair and raging. But John would have been cold, calculated. Uncaring. Sam was now as good as dead to his father, he was sure. As good as dead to anyone, really.

“I got out, Bel,” Sam sighed. “I’m not going back, not even for Dean.”

“How is living it up as Gabriel Novak’s toy-boy ‘getting out’ exactly? You’re scamming one of the richest men in the country, Sammy!”

“I’m not! I’m _not_ scamming him! And don’t call me that!” Sam spat before he remembered himself and cast a long glance at the shut door.

“Right. OK. So, _Campbell_ , you’re just somehow living here, using a false name…?” Bela raised her hands at him, then shrugged in confusion.

“It’s complicated!”

“So uncomplicate it!”

“I’m done with that life. A job went bad. Dad, Dean, and I all scarpered. And I just… never went to the rendezvous point. I hot-wired a car and drove and drove and never looked back. I never asked for that life, Bel. I never wanted motels and false identities and my own set of lockpicks! I want college. And roots! And a normal life, and… now I have that, and I got it all on my own. I want stability. I want happiness. And I want Gabriel!”

“Oh, God, please don’t tell me you love him” Bela breathed, her eyes wide in terror.

“I… I don’t know? I met Gabriel completely by chance… and you know what? He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me! But with or without him, I would still be here. I’ve been wanting to go to Stanford since I was ten! _I_ got myself here. Gabriel is… a thing of absolute wonder, and I have no idea what he sees in me. But I’m here for me. For Stanford and a future far away from _them_!”

“I didn’t know that,” Bela said gently, touching his cheek with a cool hand. “I never knew you wanted to get out. Forgive me, but this is all a bloody big shock!”

“How could you know anything about me?!” Sam allowed. “It’s not as if my dad ever asked me for my opinion or showed any interest in knowing what I wanted from life. We were raised his way from the get-go. I was indentured before I knew there were other options, different paths… before I knew we weren’t normal! That other kids weren’t used by their parents as lookouts and pickpockets! So, I kept my thoughts quiet from my dad, kept my plans from Dean. Because I knew I’d break away one day. And for that to work, I couldn’t let them find me. I couldn’t let them know anything that they could use to track me down. You can’t tell him, Bela.”

“I won’t,” she sighed. “But he’s been so lost without you, Sam. He misses you.”

“I miss Dean, too. But I won’t go back.”

“Well, how does Gabriel fit in? I’m sorry if I find it difficult to believe you fell in with a billionaire by chance!”

“I swear, it’s completely by accident! I started working as a waiter at a club. He’s a customer. We got talking… I like him, I really like him.”

“And now you’re his household pet?”

“No! It’s not as depraved as you think. Well, not completely. We’re not sleeping together. Yet.”

“You’re about to, if that make-out session I saw downstairs is anything to go by!” Bela’s worried expression morphed into a smirk, her eyes dancing.

“I damn well hope so!” Sam grinned at her, finally calming down. She gave his shoulders another squeeze.

“We need to get back,” Bela murmured with a sigh, and he agreed, sending her off ahead while he changed into nicer clothes. On a whim he pulled his phone out and left a voicemail for Dean.

“Hey. It’s me. Uh. Just wanted to say I hope you’re both well, and I’m doing fine. Bye.”

Dean called back immediately, causing Sam to switch his phone off.

When he finally made it back downstairs, he found Gabriel surrounded by an entirely new flock of admirers, out in the cool night air on the patio. He was promptly kissed for about ten minutes straight before Gabriel finally bothered to get off him and do introductions.

“Have you had any water?” Sam asked him quietly, purposefully ignoring Kali, who was standing opposite him. She looked resplendent in a skin-tight red dress and clearly still despised the mere sight of Sam, if the hard glare she was giving him was anything to go by.

“Nope!” Gabriel beamed up at him, cheerful and clearly in his element amongst all these people.

“I’m gonna get you some,” Sam decided, ducking back into the house. Ezekiel and Bela were in the kitchen with Jack and a press of other people who Sam recognised from Gabriel’s office, all of whom greeted him cheerfully as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Uncle Campbell! Hi!” Jack called, waving enthusiastically to him.

“Hi, Jack, good to see you. I’m just gonna take this to Gabriel,” Sam waved the bottle and resumed his mission. Gabriel hardly needed babysitting, but Sam would be happier to see him drink some liquid that wasn’t alcohol.

As Sam passed the stairs, he checked on the Koi, which all seemed fine and were probably the only sober inhabitants of the house – someone was asleep and snoring on the stairs just above the pond.

When Sam pressed the cold bottle of water into Gabriel’s hand, he accepted a kiss on the cheek in response and let his arm slide around Gabriel’s waist. He stayed until Gabriel finished the whole bottle, chatting and introducing himself to a few people in the group, keeping his hand on the curve of Gabriel’s hip for a while before sliding it down a little lower.

Kali continued to stare daggers at him, completely ignoring the statuesque dark-haired man at her side. Just to piss her off, Sam let his gaze slide right over her and smiled instead at the man.

“I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Campbell, Gabriel’s boyfriend.”

“Baldur.” The guy reached for Sam’s hand to shake. Sam lifted his palm from Gabriel’s hip, shook, then returned it to rest on Gabriel’s ass. Gabriel giggled into his bicep, still not particularly sober.

“This is my wife, Kali,” Baldur gestured to her; her eyes were almost narrowed to slits and she did not spare her husband a single glance.

“Oh, we’ve met,” Sam said with a coy smile, tightening his grip on Gabriel, who lifted a hand to rub the back of Sam’s neck in response without breaking his conversation with two other men of the group.

“Campbell, stop with the groping!” Bela called as she came striding from the house, shaking back her hair in a way that made every man and most women fall in lust with her immediately.

“No,” Sam told her loudly, turning to shoot her a grin.

“Come on, come. Talk weddings with me.”

Bela held out her hand for him to obey, and Sam sighed. He dropped a quick kiss onto Gabriel’s cheek, along with one last squeeze of his ass before he started after Bela. Gabriel didn’t seem at all perturbed by his behaviour, just winked at him when Sam glanced back over his shoulder.

Kali, however, looked as though she wanted to drain Sam’s blood as sadistically and slowly as possible, her eyes livid as Sam slid the patio door shut behind them. Sam returned her gaze, deadpan, not about to let her get under his skin.

Gabriel was fucking _his_. Sam shot her one last smirk before he disappeared after Bela.

They wound up in the downstairs living room, which was totally empty, weirdly.

“You’re in love with him,” Bela told Sam, taking a seat on the cream couch by the Christmas tree and sipping from her glass of champagne. “Obviously.”

Sam ignored the statement as he flopped down next to her.

“How far are you taking your engagement? Will you cut and run with the ring now, or will you try and wring a few more credit cards and jewels out of him?”

Bela just shrugged, unashamed, always unashamed. “He’s good enough in bed that it’s worth sticking around for a little longer. But high-profile men are so _risky_. The media are already hounding. Breaking the engagement or calling off a wedding will only make them hungrier to hunt me even more. Besides, I haven’t been married in quite a while. Who knows? Maybe I’ll turn this into a long game? Maybe I’ll copy you and fall in love and live happily ever after as a Novak!”

Sam snorted at her, but before he could open his mouth to fire back, she was speaking again.

“Oh wait, no... It’s not happily ever after, is it? Since Gabriel doesn’t even know your real name? And can you really, truly be happy with someone you’re lying to every second of every day?”

He’d forgotten how low Bela could hit.

“Enough, Bela. I’m out of that life. I told you.”

“You’re not! Sam,” she reached over to grab his hand. “I’m sorry. But you have to see sense! You’re not out. You’ll never get out. Not unless you tell him the truth, all the truth, and work on putting your past behind you and moving on. The more you hide from Sam Winchester, the longer Gabriel goes on thinking Campbell Wesson exists, the deeper in love you two fall with each other… this is only going to end badly. You know I love you, Sam. You know that for all my faults, I’d never hurt you.”

“Could have fooled me,” Sam muttered.

“Tell Gabriel the truth about who you are. None of it is on you, anyway. You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. But tell him. Now. Tonight. Because when he finds out – and he _will_ find out – do you think he’s still going to trust you? Do you think he’ll still want to be with you, when you’ve built your relationship on nothing but lies?”

Sam was saved from having to answer by Ezekiel popping his head into the room and beaming when he caught sight of Bela.

“There you are, darling!”

“Sorry,” Sam smiled as he stood. “We’ve been wedding planning! She wants pink gerberas everywhere and the first dance to be Ed Sheeran.”

Sam took a lot of joy in the disgusted scowl Bela sent him as he took his chance to flee to the now-empty kitchen for a beer. When he nudged the refrigerator door shut with the bottle already at his lips, Gabriel was there.

“Sorry about Kali, earlier, she’s a bit…” Gabriel made a vague sort of hand gesture that could have meant anything, really.

Sam just shrugged as he closed the distance between them with a murmur of, “I’m not bothered by her,” and kissed him. Gabriel tasted like beer and sugar, which probably meant he’d consumed nothing but alcohol and candy all night, but whatever.

Gabriel let out a sigh of approval, his hands closing on Sam’s hips as he pulled him closer, their mouths fitting together perfectly.

“God, I love kissing you,” Sam gasped out as he abandoned his beer on the counter in favour of winding both arms around Gabriel’s neck. “Could do this all day.”

“You’re more than welcome to kiss me any time you like,” Gabriel told him, giving his hips a squeeze before he eased himself away.

“Why stop?” Sam pouted, wanting more.

“’Cos I got a house full of guests, baby boy, and if I spend any longer with you, I’m never going to make it back to them.”

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“You want me to go hang out with Kali some more when I’m turned on as all Hell?” Gabriel challenged, stealing a gulp of Sam’s beer.

“I want you to send them all home and take me to bed,” Sam murmured, waiting until Gabriel was swallowing just to make him choke.

“My my, aren’t you possessive tonight? I should invite Kali over more often if it invokes this sort of reaction.”

“Please don’t,” Sam groaned.

“You’re right. Then we’d actually have to see her, and no one wants that.”

“Stop talking,” Sam grumbled, grabbing Gabriel by his waist and pulling him back in. Gabriel chuckled against his mouth, kissed him back slow and deep, and within seconds they were starting to move together against the counter. Then Sam spread his legs, and Gabriel pressed closer and fuck yes, _fuck yes_ …

“Please,” Sam gasped, and Gabriel moaned into his neck in response. “Please. I need you! Please!”

Gabriel shushed him gently, then bit at his jaw just under his ear, where Sam’s pulse was fluttering rapidly as their bodies continued to roll together helplessly.

Then Jack came waltzing in, shot them a grin, and howled over his shoulder, “CHARLIE! My uncle Gabriel’s having sex in the kitchen!”

From somewhere else in the house, Sam heard Charlie’s shout of, “GABRIEL! NO! NO SEX IN THE KITCHEN!”

“Fuck off, Jackie,” Gabriel snapped over his shoulder, keeping his arms possessively draped over Sam. “This is my house!”

“He means please leave the room within the next ten seconds,” Sam supplied, but Jack just smiled at them and uncorked a new bottle of wine. He settled down at the counter and started swigging straight from it, just as Pamela came rushing in.

“What’s going on? Gabe and Cam are having sex?” She looked way too excited at the prospect.

“Trying to,” Sam snapped at her, as Gabriel grumbled into his neck, body still plastered to his. “Here’s an idea. How about you all go home?”

“Fuck no, I’m staying to watch.” Pam settled down onto one of the barstools next to Jack.

Sighing, Sam reluctantly let Gabriel go and gave Pamela’s phone the finger when she pulled it out to start filming them.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam actually felt a pang of sadness as he slid his devil outfit off for the last time. His final shift at ‘Kings’ was all over. He folded up the black leather trousers and white ruffled button down carefully, even though they’re going straight into the wash. The horns he left hanging over the corner of his mirror.

Christmas had slunk up on Sam, and tonight had been the club’s last show before closure. Sam had felt weird all night, caught between elation at leaving the environment – he’d gleefully slapped away any hands that had gone for his bare skin without bothering to wait for Benny – and turmoil at not being able to see his friends every day.

Kevin lingered in his peripheral vision as Sam pulled on his street clothes, shooting him long and pointed looks. The moment he was properly dressed, Kevin scrambled over to him for a hug.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Sam told him, patting the top of his head as Kevin squeezed himself against Sam’s chest.

“G’na miss you too,” Kevin mumbled back.

“You’ll keep in touch? And remember to stick close to Benny.”

“I dunno how much longer I’ll stay now that you’re going. It’s getting more difficult to keep this from my Mom, anyway. She’s angry enough that I’ve taken a gap year; if she found I worked here she’d fly in just to rip my throat out. And I’m applying to every Ivy League, anyway, so I’ll be leaving Frisco for sure as it is.”

Kevin sounded scared at the prospect of life moving on. And probably equally scared of his Mom.

“You’ll be absolutely fine, Kev,” Sam promised. He would have said more to comfort his friend, except the door flew open, and Garth tripped over his own feet as he crashed into the room.

The third waiter screamed, high-pitched and shrill, when he caught sight of the extended hug he was missing out on and immediately ran at them. With a war-cry, he pitched himself up onto Sam and locked his legs around both their waists, his arms around their necks.

“Dammit, Garth!” Kevin wailed as he was crushed tighter against Sam’s torso.

“Garth, get the hell off me!”

“Never!”

When Sam did finally extract himself from the guys and make it out of the dressing room, he got drawn into another hug by Benny that involved a lot of back slapping and being called brother. Jo cried when she tucked herself under Sam’s arm, though she turned her face away so he wouldn’t see it.

“I’m seeing you all in literally three days for Christmas!” Sam reminded her as she snivelled.

Pam got her hands on his ass about six times before he’d even made it to the door, and Christ what was it with people and groping him? Sam muttered that he was glad to be leaving, to try and fill the cavity that was hollowing out his chest. Pam got in one last pinch he Sam could scramble into the safety of the Porsche.

“Give Gabriel my love!” Pam called through the window, grinning at him.

“I’m gonna tell him you wouldn’t leave my ass alone!”

“Oh, please! Like that will shock him! He understands me on a fundamental level that you will never comprehend!”

Sam just shook his head at her and put his foot down on the accelerator, screeching the brakes in response to her peal of laughter.

When he got home, the light was still on in Gabriel’s office, so Sam stuck his head around his door.

“Gabriel? Hey, you’re still up?”

Gabriel looked up, surprised and blinking behind a pair of glasses, and OK that was a kink Sam didn’t realise he had.

“Shoot, baby! Hi! What’s the time?”

“Just after 2?”

“Damn.” Gabriel rubbed at his temples, wincing as he peered at his laptop again. “I got champagne, so we could celebrate… I meant to have it all set up as a surprise for you, but this damn report…”

“It’s all right,” Sam let himself into the room and moved to stand behind him at his desk, reaching to rub his shoulders. “Is everything OK?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, gorgeous. Just stuff I have to sign off on before we close over the holidays, and the tester feedback isn’t going the way we wanted… Oh, fuck that feels good,” Gabriel broke off with a moan as Sam worked his thumbs between his shoulder blades, trying to loosen the stiff muscles.

“You should sleep,” Sam told him gently, not wanting to impose on his work, but mindful of how early Gabriel got up on weekday mornings. 3 hours of sleep was better than nothing.

“Yeah… no. Champagne first!” Gabriel insisted, snapping the laptop shut and springing to his feet with his usual jovial smile. “We’re celebrating!”

“What, the fact that I now have no income?” Sam joked as he followed him up the spiral stairs to his bedroom.

“The fact that you’re free of Crowley and all the creepy men who grope you that aren’t me,” Gabriel replied, flicking on the light to his ensuite bathroom. Sam, who’d never been in there before, blinked at the sight of the gigantic bathtub that was recessed into the floor, a bottle of champagne on ice waiting next to it.

“And Pamela, who also gropes me,” Sam pointed out, trying to keep his building excitement under control as Gabriel knelt to turn on the taps to the tub. “This is for me? A bath?”

“It absolutely is.”

“Please say you’re joining me?”

“I absolutely am,” Gabriel laughed as he poured bubble bath and bath salts into the tub, then threw in a bath bomb that turned the water ludicrously pink as it fizzed under the water.

“No rose petals?” Sam asked, shucking off his hoodie and t-shirt in one go and reaching for Gabriel’s belt as he stood.

“Next time,” Gabriel promised with a wink before they got so lost in kissing and stripping each other that the bath almost overflowed.

Finally seeing all of Gabriel’s gloriously naked body had Sam’s pulse thrumming and his own cock thickening; Gabriel was big, every bit as big as Sam had been hoping for and he didn’t try to censor his moan at finally seeing Gabriel in the flesh. It was a fight not to go instantly to his knees to try and take him in his mouth – he resisted, but he was biting on his lip so hard Gabriel had to stop him, sliding a hand gently down his jaw.

“Careful, baby! Now stop drooling and get in the water before it gets cold,” Gabriel teased, picking up the champagne and popping the cork.

Sam decided to be obedient and did as he was told, settling into the warm water with a groan of delight and accepting the glass that Gabriel poured for him.

Climbing in opposite him, Gabriel sighed as he leaned back against the side of the bath, and Sam would happily watch that expression of pleasure on his face every second of every day.

“Cheers,” Gabriel murmured, opening his eyes, and holding out his glass to toast Sam. “To you.”

“To being poor.” Sam took a long sip.

“You still want to keep paying me? I’ll take a daily massage.”

“I’ve been offering that on a plate for weeks!”

“I don’t mean of my dick!” Gabriel laughed at him. “No sex for rent, you’re better than that!”

Sam eyed him over his champagne glass, “We both know I’m not.”

He let one hand slide up Gabriel’s thigh under the water as he spoke, and Gabriel smirked at him, so fucking beautiful with his hair already dampening from the steam.

They’d been toying with each other for weeks now; lingering touches, a little dry humping that never got anywhere, baited words, kissing, so much kissing that always left Sam ravenous and hard. But none of his teasing had been enough to break Gabriel’s defences. Sam had swanned about in towels, had jacked off loudly in bed every night, had sent suggestive pictures and held even more suggestive conversations.

Despite Gabriel’s disappointingly iron-clad resolve, they were at least still on the same page about their intimacy. A miscommunication a few nights prior had turned out to be a blessing in disguise, and Sam now felt they were standing together on solid ground, not just getting annoyed at each other and their difference over wanting to wait.

They had been making out on the couch downstairs one evening the previous week, Gabriel’s hands squeezing Sam’s ass and his own shoved up inside Gabriel’s shirt, rubbing at his chest.

Sam had grown sick of hearing filthy promises that seemed like they would never eventuate and was over hearing the murmurs of ‘behave’ growled into his ear whenever Gabriel thought he was pushing too much. He wanted. And he wanted it now. And he didn’t want to wait any longer.

“Please, God, will just fuck me already?!” Sam had whimpered to Gabriel, voice laced with defeat. “I need you so badly, want you so much!”

“I know, my baby boy,” Gabriel had made soothing noises into his hair as he’d stroked his ass. “I know. Soon, I promise.”

“No! Now!” Sam had begged, to busy fumbling with Gabriel’s fly to notice his expression grow hard and flat.

“No. We’ve been over this. We need to get to know each other more. And there’s far too much going on for us both-”

Sam had snapped, had wrenched Gabriel’s jeans down, had panted ‘fuck me, just fuck me’, against his lips as he’d fumbled to draw his cock out.

And then he’d found himself dumped straight onto the floor, Gabriel on his feet and looming over him, face livid.

“You don’t want this relationship to work, after all? You just want sex?”

“Of course I want it to work,” Sam had whined, feeling completely torn between wanting to be good and just needing to fucking cum. He’d pressed his trembling hands together to stop them shaking and hadn’t known where to look. “It’s all just too much sometimes.”

Gabriel had knelt before him and helped him calm down, stroked his shoulders, his hair. Once Sam’s trembling had stopped, Gabriel had pulled back and looked him in the eyes.

“This isn’t working.”

Sam had half-shrieked at him in fear, thinking he was being dumped, and Gabriel had moved to hold him once more.

“No, wait, I don’t mean it like that! Listen, baby. The way we’re doing this isn’t working. You need some proper boundaries, and we need to agree to some ground rules. I should have done it weeks ago, but I didn’t want to rush you.”

Once he’d relaxed and let Gabriel’s words sink in, Sam had nodded slowly in agreement.

“This was my mistake, I’m sorry. I haven’t given you tangible limits,” Gabriel had apologised.

So, they’d sat together at the dining table and worked out what they each were and were not OK with; Gabriel wouldn’t tolerate Sam arguing and whining for sex, and especially wouldn’t allow him to use his physical strength and size to try and overpower him.

Sam, they realised, needed to know from the outset which behaviours were acceptable. It was difficult for him when they went from teasing and kissing and touching to Gabriel suddenly calling halt and telling Sam that he had unknowingly pushed too far.

“You need to accept that we won’t have full-on sex for some time. I’ll tease you, play with you. Hell, I’ll definitely let you cum if you want. But I won’t fuck you yet,” Gabriel told him. “You need to focus on your application, and I won’t forgive myself if I jeopardize your future by distracting you.”

“I can handle that,” Sam had agreed. “But I can’t control how turned on I get for you and I don’t think it’s fair to get punished for it. It makes me feel rejected when I’m allowed to initiate something, but then you suddenly make us stop.”

“I would never punish you for getting turned on,” Gabriel had stroked his hand. “It’s when you get mindless and half-crazed over it that I start to feel like you won’t be to stop when I tell you. And you _need_ to be able to stop when I tell you. I want to touch you. I want to kiss you. I want to make you cum. I don’t want to hold off on any of that. But if I allow you to cum in response to bad behaviour – you being demanding, or rude, or pushy – then the message that sends you is that it’s OK to act like that because you’ll get to orgasm anyway.”

They settled on Sam trying to learn to use other means to communicate the depths of his need; namely talking rather than just trying to pull Gabriel’s clothes off.

“Tell me what you need. Tell me if you want to play, or be kissed, or if you just want to touch me. Tell me if you’re going out of your mind and need to cum as hard and fast as possible. We can give you what you want, what we both want, as many times as you like.”

Sam had blushed at that, and Gabriel had stroked his cheek.

“You don’t need to be shy with me. It’s a miracle for me to be with you. I _want_ to give you pleasure. It’s all I want.”

Sam had blushed harder and Gabriel had kissed him softly, over and over, until their lips were swollen, and their lungs were gasping. Getting back to their list had been kinda difficult after that.

Sam looked up from his introspection to find Gabriel watching him, smiling through the steam rising from the water.

Quirking an eyebrow at him in response, Sam drained the last of his champagne, then put his flute down on the side of the bath before shifting himself up onto knees and moving to straddle Gabriel’s hips.

“Obviously I’m going to have to celebrate alone, since you’re so disinterested,” Sam shrugged down at him. He let his palms slide down his own torso, then slowly wrapped both hands around his cock, keeping it just below the line of the water.

“Baby, I am so far from disinterested it’s not funny. But knock yourself out. You certainly seem to enjoy it every night,” Gabriel grinned, biting at his lip as he gazed up at him.

“You listen?”

“Always. You’re so noisy, it’s impossible not to hear you wailing away just through the wall.”

“You think I’m noisy? Wait till you finally fuck me, then you’ll hear noisy.”

“Oh, I will, will I?” Gabriel murmured, reaching out for him at last. Sam’s eyes fluttered shut when those fingers slid along his collarbone, then drifted down to his nipples.

“God, I love how sensitive these are, noticed it in the garage the night I brought you home,” Gabriel mumbled, pressing closer to take one between his teeth as his thumb brushed over the other.

Sam whimpered in delight, one wet hand coming up to cup Gabriel’s head as he finally began to stroke himself properly.

“Gabriel! Gabriel, that feels so good!”

“You like that? I thought you would.” Gabriel traded one nipple for the other, kissing his way between them to nibble at his new prize. Both of his hands slid down to Sam’s ass then, and he pulled him closer so that Sam’s cock grazed against his warm sternum with every movement.

“You drive me mad,” Sam moaned helplessly, arching his back to press closer. “You drive me so fucking mad!”

Gabriel’s response was to push Sam’s hand away from himself and dip his head to take his cock in his mouth, hunching over his lap as Sam knelt up higher to meet him and get above the water.

Sam whined at the feeling of Gabriel’s mouth on him, so gloriously warm and applying just the right pressure to the tip of his cock. He let out something that sounded like a rather pathetic mewl when Gabriel’s tongue joined in his ministrations.

“Yeah, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Gabriel pulled off to look up at him, his cheeks pink and his gold eyes hazy. “Keep making those noises for Daddy, baby.”

The pet names had Sam’s hips canting, and he wailed as he found himself helplessly fucking Gabriel’s mouth as soon as it was back around him, unhinged and whimpering. He was so wound up that it didn’t take long for him to cum, and the way Gabriel’s throat constricted as he swallowed was heaven.

“Good?” Gabriel murmured, helping Sam turn around and wriggling out from underneath him.

“So. Fucking. Good.” Sam groaned over his shoulder, pressing his ass back as Gabriel moved up onto his knees behind him.

Gabriel laughed and let Sam wriggle back against him for a while longer before he slid himself between Sam’s wet thighs.

Sam arched his back with a groan at the feeling, then pressed his legs together and looked down so he could watch Gabriel’s thick cock, red with need, fucking between his legs. He reached down to rub his fingertips over it, thumbing at the slit just enough to make Gabriel yell out in pleasure.

“Give it to me, Daddy,” Sam murmured to him. “Come on. I want to see it. I want to watch you cum, Daddy, please, Daddy…” He kept up a litany of begging until Gabriel was panting hard as he rutted against him, his teeth gripping Sam’s shoulder as his fingers dug bruises into his hips.

“Cum, Daddy, please cum, please…”

That did it; Gabriel’s body went stiff and he made a noise into Sam’s skin that was so guttural he could feel it vibrating down to his bone marrow. It took a long time for the harsh breathing in Sam’s ear to slow.

Gabriel was pliant with exhaustion, fully draped along Sam’s back. Sam waited until he’d caught his breath, then eased him to lie back in the water and let himself curl up against Gabriel’s warm, wet body.

“Thank you,” he murmured, idly stroking at Gabriel’s chest as he pressed his face into his neck.

“Can’t talk. Brain exploded. Seeing stars.”

It took a while to convince Gabriel to wake up enough to get out of the water. Sam dried him off and led him to his bed; Gabriel was completely dead to the world by the time Sam was tidying up the bathroom and draining the water from the tub. He put the last of the champagne into the fridge, checked on Skadi, then climbed back upstairs and into Gabriel’s bed.

Gabriel rolled over when Sam kissed his jaw as he settled next to him, shifting to press their bodies together, though he stayed asleep. Sam kissed his neck a few more times, careful not to leave marks, before he buried his face in Gabriel’s hair and watched the moonlight on the water out the window, sated and content.

*

The tune of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ woke Sam just a few hours later, but Gabriel kissed the noises of complaint from his mouth.

“I’ll see you tonight, baby boy.”

“Bye, Daddy,” Sam murmured, burrowing back into the pillow without opening his eyes.

“You don’t have to call me that, gorgeous,” Gabriel kissed his temple before Sam felt him climb from the bed.

“Want to.”

“OK. Back to sleep, baby.”

“’K.”

When Sam next woke the sun was way too high in the sky and he swore loudly to the empty room.

His plan for Gabriel’s surprise Christmas present tonight was time-sensitive and relied on precision, and now he was already behind.

Scrambling from the bed, he hurried into his bedroom and threw on the cleanest clothes he could find. He was peeling the Ferrari from the driveway in under two minutes and wrote his shopping list on his phone at every red light.

Six hours later, with one burned fingertip and hair that was a complete mess from running his hands through it in frustration, Sam stood at the kitchen counter, trying to quell his panic. He was surveying the mess he’d made of practically every available space, while he looked for somewhere to put the apple pie to cool.

Then he heard the garage door.

He hurtled himself into the foyer in time to slap his hands over Gabriel’s eyes just as the man stepped through the door.

“Hi! Where’s the fire, baby?”

“Hi! No! Sorry! It’s fine! It’s just a surprise,” Sam babbled. He was suddenly extremely nervous, and very conscious of the fact that he hadn’t had time to shower.

He steered Gabriel into the dining area before he finally took his hands away from his eyes, and Gabriel’s mouth fell open as he stared around at the room. Sam wasn’t much of a decorator, but he thought he’d done an adequate job; candles littered every surface, and the table was already laid out with Gabriel’s surprise Christmas dinner.

“So, I had no idea what to get you for Christmas, since you seem pretty sorted for weird statues and Koi fish… then I figured since your Christmases with your family aren’t the calmest, you might like to have…”

He was cut off by Gabriel turning around and kissing him fiercely. It was only when they were both breathless that Gabriel pulled back to demand, “You did all this?! Cooked all this?”

“Yeah… I’m not a great cook, though... It was motel kitchenettes and takeaways all my life, but YouTube is a thing of beauty!”

“Don’t say that, I’m in competition with them,” Gabriel muttered, still looking shocked as he peered at the food, hands lingering on Sam’s waist.

It _looked_ good, at least, even though Sam wasn’t sure that the gravy was meant to be that colour, and he was petrified about carving the turkey, which looked far too pale.

“The cranberry sauce is store bought, sorry, but there’s apple pie… only the pastry is also pre-made. I tried to make it by hand but oh my God, it was a mess… and the apples are from a can too, sorry…”

“There’s apple pie! Are you kidding me?! This is amazing!” Gabriel looked so beyond excited that some of the tension in Sam’s chest finally agreed to lessen.

“You like it? It could all taste awful…”

“Baby, my baby boy,” Gabriel wrapped his arms tightly around Sam’s neck and kissed him again and again and again. “This is perfect!”

Sam sighed in relief and let himself be kissed, let himself go pliant against Gabriel’s body until he was being backed against the wall by the fireplace and Gabriel was mouthing at his throat, all scraping teeth soothed by warm tongue.

“Can’t believe you did this for me,” Gabriel mumbled into his ear, lips brushing just under his jaw. “Such a gorgeous, perfect boy for me. As if you weren’t incredible enough last night… God, you’re incredible every second of every day. You’re absolutely going to get into Stanford, baby, because you are utterly, utterly amazing, and you have nothing to worry about.”

Blushing, Sam didn’t know how to respond, so he just buried his face in Gabriel’s shoulder. Compliments weren’t something he was used to receiving. When he was given them, it was never for his actions or his words, never for any accomplishment or triumph. All he usually got were leers about his looks or body which, quite frankly, often bordered on sexual assault.

“I’m glad you like the look of it, at least; I just hope it’s all edible.”

“It’s going to be amazing,” Gabriel insisted as he finally unpeeled himself from Sam’s torso.

“You say that, but then you’ll get food poisoning from the carrots, or something.”

The food was fine, in the end – some things weren’t great, but there were other parts that Sam was stupidly proud of, especially the noise of satisfaction that Gabriel made as he ate two pieces of the pie.

Skadi snaffled about their feet for any crumbs, and after they had eaten they left her to it. Gabriel pressed Sam down onto the couch in the living room to kiss him between sips of the leftover champagne from the previous night.

Exhausted, Sam dozed off right there on Gabriel’s lap. Gabriel gently kissed him awake sometime later, when the house was in darkness and all the food was wrapped up and put away, and Skadi was snoring in her bed by the patio door.

“Come on, gorgeous. Bedtime in a proper bed.”

Sam followed him sleepily upstairs to Gabriel’s own room, undressed, and fell into the bed, revelling in the scent of Gabriel, the feeling of pressing himself against the other man’s bare skin.

“Did you keep the cowboy outfit?”

Gabriel’s voice broke through his sleepy reverie as he rubbed at Sam’s back, then rolled him onto his stomach. 

“The cowboy outfit from the club,” Gabriel clarified, in answer to Sam’s sleepy, questioning hum.

“No. Hated it.”

“Blasphemy! I loved it. I got so hard the first time I saw you in those chaps. And that little G-string… mmm…” Two warm hands slid up the insides of Sam’s thighs, urging them to part.

Sam moaned into the pillow, too exhausted to even open his eyes.

“You’re doing this on purpose!” he grumbled. “Teasing me when you know I’m almost asleep!”

“Maybe a little,” Gabriel chuckled, before he pressed a kiss to the back of Sam’s neck, then backed off. “Gonna miss you when I go tomorrow.”

Sam rolled after him, cuddling down into his chest and heaving a sigh, “What time?”

“Flight’s at 8am.”

Sam groaned his disapproval until Gabriel kissed him in placation.

“You still haven’t given me a solid answer, you know,” Sam accused him, a little later when his head was swimming from exhaustion, and he was drowsy from the perfection of Gabriel’s mouth.

“Answered you? About what?”

“I keep asking –” Sam broke off to yawn. “I keep asking when you’re going to finally fuck me. We like each other. We know each other. Things are going well.”

“Things are going very well,” Gabriel stroked a hand down his spine. “If I wasn’t having to leave you in the morning, I can’t promise I wouldn’t be taking very good care of your very sweet ass right now.”

“I hate you.”

“I know you do. Then there’s your application, baby, due just after New Year’s. I don’t want to distract you from it, not when you’ve been working towards it so hard for so long.”

“I want to be distracted,” Sam told his pillow, too close to sleep to open his eyes.

“Tell you what, we’ll get Christmas and New Year’s over, and after your application is in, I’ll finally take you on an actual proper date. Then we’ll talk more about it.”

Sam groaned again, not sure if he was agreeing or complaining, but wanting to offer some sort of acknowledgement anyway. Gabriel kissed a path along his shoulder and Sam was asleep before he’d stopped.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam opened his eyes on Christmas morning and tried not to let the loneliness hit him too severely in the chest. He lay staring up at the ceiling of their bedroom, the sickening feeling of guilt slinking through his gut, crawling up into his throat until he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

God, what was he _doing_? This was never a part of his plan; Gabriel hadn’t been part of the plan, getting close enough to someone to fall in love, not to mention creating a group of dear friends… none of that was part of Sam’s plan. He was supposed to create his alias, come to San Francisco, build up some savings, get into Stanford, work his butt off to get his law degree, pass the bar and leave. Connections, friends, and _love_ were never supposed to happen. Ties, roots… he wanted them, but they weren’t supposed to happen yet.

But then, it wasn’t like it was happening for _him_ , not really. It was Campbell’s life. Campbell was the one falling in love, making friends, building his future. Not Sam. Sam’s life ended long ago, when he hotwired a car and threw his duffle of clothes and his old laptop into the passenger seat.

He rubbed at his face, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes as he tried to summon the enthusiasm to get out of bed. It felt impossible – he was too low, too forlorn.

Worst of all, the need to simply kiss Gabriel again was overwhelming.

Sam had seen him off the previous morning at the airport with a nothing but a quick peck goodbye across the front seat of the Cadillac to sate him, a queue of honking cars behind them in the drop-off bay making anything more impossible. Sam had missed him acutely ever since. A part of him couldn’t help but let his ears strain to hear Gabriel’s movements in the house, expecting to turn and show him something funny on his phone or to call out and have him answer.

Even with numerous texts back and forth and a long phone-call from Gabriel last night, Sam was craving him, missing him, aching for him in ways that were beyond physical. He had pressed the phone tight against his ear during the call, listening to Gabriel recount how his baby-faced youngest brother Samandriel – a member of every teenage girl’s current favourite boyband – had got himself drunk from one glass of cider at dinner and had puked all over the yams.

Sam had hung up still laughing. Then the accusatory texts had started rolling in from Bela, who was at the Novak Christmas gathering too, no doubt charming the entire clan with her smile alone. Sam hadn’t responded to her, but that hadn’t stopped Bela. Nothing stopped Bela.

_I see you haven’t told Gabe anything even remotely resembling the truth._

_God, he’s grinning ear to ear bragging about you. His sweet, beautiful, perfect boy._

_Now Jack is teasing him. And Anna wants all the details about you. Lucifer wants all the details too, but I won’t repeat what of._

_Ew._

_Sammy, darling, honestly. I do wish you’d listened to me. This man could not be more in love with you. You are making a mistake, and it’s only going to hurt you both when the truth comes out, perhaps irreparably._

_Tell. Him._

Sam had blacklisted her after that.

Sighing, Sam hauled himself out of bed and into a pair of sweatpants, then phoned Gabriel as he made his way to the ground-floor to see Skadi.

“Hi, baby boy,” Gabriel crowed, sounding far too awake for so early in the morning. “Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas,” Sam murmured back, letting himself enjoy hearing Gabriel’s voice. He opened the patio door and watched Skadi go tearing onto the lawn on a mission to sniff the grass, checking it hadn’t changed overnight, or something.

“What’s your plan for your Christmas day?” Gabriel asked, and Sam smiled to himself at the sound of a stifled yawn. Perhaps Gabriel wasn’t so awake after all.

“Well, I’m currently watching your dog investigate the backyard. Gonna head off to Jo and Benny’s around noon. I might crash there if I have too much to drink, so I’ll leave Skadi some food out.”

“Sounds sensible. Take whatever you want for your friends from the grog cabinet.”

“Cabinets, plural. I’m still finding them in the strangest places,” Sam corrected him, as Skadi tore back inside and led the way to the kitchen for her breakfast. Sam paused to feed the koi as he passed them, ignoring the dog’s whining and stamping feet.

“Two seconds, honey,” he told her.

“Hm?”

“I was talking to your dog, who thinks she’s being deprived of all food forever.”

“I miss her. Give her a kiss for me.”

They chatted a little longer – Gabriel was still laying in bed – “Not naked, so don’t go getting naughty ideas.”

“You don’t want to bound off to open your presents?” Sam teased.

“The best present was yours,” Gabriel told him, and Sam held the phone tighter, fingers locked with his own desperation.

“I miss you.”

“God, I miss you too, baby boy. So very much, I can’t even begin to tell you. But I better go now, gorgeous, I can hear Uriel and Zachariah arguing already. I don’t want to miss the hilarity. Drive safe to Benny and Jo’s!”

Sam didn’t get it, not until he walked into the garage just before midday, bags of bottles in his hand (whiskey for Benny, beer for Jo, red wine for Pam, cider for Kevin and a premixed cosmopolitan cocktail for Garth). Then he spotted the new car.

Next to the yellow Cadillac was a sky-blue Dodge with a bow wrapped around the steering wheel and its key on the pegboard next to all the others. How Gabriel had snuck it in was beyond him.

He could hear the grin in Gabriel’s voice when he picked up the phone. “Crashed it yet?”

“You’re having me on. This can’t be mine.”

“It sure is, baby. No take backs.”

“But…” Sam started to protest, but Gabriel’s low murmur of ‘don’t even think about trying to refuse it,’ stopped him.

“Thank you,” he said instead.

“Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Merry Christmas,” Sam whispered back, as tears sprung up in his eyes. Guilt over his lies, only compounded by Bela’s texts, competed with how badly he wanted to be with Gabriel right now, to see him, to touch him. He just wanted a little bit more, for a little bit longer. To enjoy happiness for more than a fleeting moment. 

Gabriel must have known, must have heard him make some sort of noise down the line, because his voice when he spoke again was soothing and low.

“Just two more days. Two more days, gorgeous, and I’ll be back home with you.”

“Two more days,” Sam agreed, subdued. “And then don’t leave me again?”

How had it come to this? When had he been reduced to this? This clingy, whiny wreck that was so desperate for Gabriel, desperate just to be in his mere presence? Had it always been going to end up this way, since the first time Sam had spotted him at the bar of ‘Kings’? It had now turned into a need so volatile that it felt like it was killing him to be apart from Gabriel.

“I won’t, my baby. Not if I can help it. Never leaving you, never,” Gabriel’s voice was rough with need and Sam whispered ‘I miss you’ over and over, a litany against the ache in his chest as the guilt made his stomach churn.

Just a little bit longer, a little bit more.

*

They frotted completely clothed on the floor of the foyer like a pair of fucking horny teenagers when they got home from the airport on the afternoon of the 27th. Sam couldn’t account for how he ended up flat on his back with Gabriel’s smaller body pressed down on his. All he knew was that the feeling of their hips bucking together, rolling and thrusting and circling, as they whimpered into each other mouths was the sweetest thing he’d ever known.

Sam came first with a high whine, a sticky mess in his briefs as Gabriel rutted against him, cradling the back of his head so he could watch Sam’s face. Then it was Gabriel’s turn to go still and stiff, gold eyes losing focus before they drifted close in pleasure as he gasped out his delight.

“How the fuck was that so good?” Gabriel wondered, when he finally rolled off, not that Sam had been complaining at the weight of him, the closeness.

“I think I know,” Sam volunteered, and Gabriel laughed before they clambered up off the floor to take a shower that was mostly just a wet make-out session against the tiled wall, hands roaming bare skin.

High on endorphins, Sam called Dean afterwards. He let himself out onto the balcony of his room to do so, which he didn’t sleep in at all anymore.

Dean picked up immediately.

“Sammy?”

“Hey, Dean.” Sam let himself smile, a little, let himself feel a little curl of happiness at hearing his brother’s voice.

“Sammy! Are you OK? Are you safe?” Dean knew better than to ask where Sam was, what he was doing, if he didn’t want the dial-tone for an answer.

“I’m good, yeah. All fine. Uh. Happy Christmas?”

“I… Happy Christmas, Sammy.” The joy in Dean’s voice warmed him almost as much as Gabriel’s did.

Then there was a noise in the background, some rustling, and Sam’s heart dropped when his father’s voice came over the line.

“Sam? Sammy?!”

“Dad?”

“Sam, thank God. You’re OK?” John sounded so pleased, so relieved, that it shocked Sam into a long silence.

“Son?! Are you there?” John’s voice was tinged with worry when Sam didn’t respond.

“Yeah. I’m here, I’m good,” he managed to murmur, at last.

“OK, good. Good. Damn, I’m happy to hear your voice, son.”

Sam couldn’t bring himself to say the same. Instead, he just looked out over the water and bit at his lip. He didn’t want to be having this conversation anymore; he acutely needed to be back downstairs and in the safety of Gabriel’s arms.

But he persevered.

“You’re both well? Safe? Eating healthy?”

“We’re good, son,” John’s laugh was familiar and alien all at once. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Alright. I, uh, I gotta go.” Sam doesn’t, but.

“Sam. I… We… Sammy. Please.”

No. Nope.

“Goodbye, Dad.” Sam shut his phone off the second he ended the call.

The moment he was back downstairs he pressed himself to Gabriel’s body when he found him in the kitchen, breathed in the scent of the coffee he’d been drinking and let Gabriel unknowingly kiss his heartache away.

*

Busy as he was, New Year’s snuck up on Sam completely.

Gabriel happily agreed to Sam’s proposal of learning to cook properly, since he wasn’t working and so couldn’t offer any board. Between teaching himself that and losing his mind in panic over his Stanford application, Sam clean forgot about New Year’s until Gabriel tapped on his bedroom door one evening, startling him out of his furore of typing.

“Feel like taking a break? Come on, we get a great view of the fireworks from the hot tub outside.”

“Fireworks?” Sam frowned up at him, then out at the ink-blue sky over the moonlit water. Somehow it was night, and he’d been working solidly on the application for hours.

“It’s New Year’s Eve, baby, remember? You can have a break for half an hour before the countdown.”

“I completely forgot,” Sam laughed. “Oh my God.”

“You’ve been working hard,” Gabriel kissed the back of Sam’s hand as he took it to help him up, then led him downstairs.

They were drunk on each other, on too-expensive wine and the warm water, naked in the hot tub when the countdown started half an hour late. Sam simply didn’t stop kissing Gabriel, just wrapped his arms properly around his neck and moved to straddle his lap.

Gabriel smiled up at him, stroked down his back, then up his thighs, gave his ass a gentle squeeze just to make Sam moan against his tongue.

“Happy New Year,” Sam murmured to him, and Gabriel’s eyes glimmered gold as fireworks exploded over the bay.

They cuddled in bed later (after Sam had ducked back to his computer to panic-save his application multiple times). Fireworks continued to light up the sky outside while Gabriel’s fingertips idly explored Sam’s bare torso. When he started making little circles around his bellybutton, smiling at Sam’s giggles, Sam didn’t push him away, fascinated at how it felt.

Then one sweep was too much, and he grabbed at Gabriel’s wrist, his cock confused but starting to pulse.

“Ah! That tickles!”

“Hmm? And why should that be a reason to stop?”

Sam gasped when Gabriel climbed on top of him but settled back against the sheets as both of Gabriel’s hands began to roam his skin, his palms sweeping away the worst of the tingling sensations before it became too much.

“Oh, God, fucking hell, Gabriel!” Sam bit out, frustrated. “Why can’t you just fuck me instead of all this teasing?!”

He had never experienced anything like this before, and his cock was thickening merrily between his legs. Gabriel always did things like this, always wound Sam up and made him so horny he couldn’t stand it, couldn’t think straight, reduced to a wailing, desperate mess.

“Shhh, shhh, it’s OK, baby boy. Behave yourself for Daddy. We’ll just play a little. You’ll get your proper reward when your application is in.”

Then fingertips skimmed up his ribcage and Sam grumbled but lifted his arms obediently, expecting them to move into his armpits. He was surprised when Gabriel instead homed in on his nipples, and he whined in delight when Gabriel asked if it felt OK.

Sam came quickly when Gabriel finally wrapped his fingers around his cock. He moaned as he spilled between their bodies and whimpered, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” over and over as he writhed about, helpless and needy. Gabriel murmured to him, praised him, kissed him as he worked him through it, pumping Sam’s cock with one hand even after Sam was spent and boneless, fireworks screaming outside and in his brain.

*

A few nights later saw Sam hitting the submit button on his Stanford application just before it was due, at 11:57pm. Then he sat back and stared blankly at his laptop as his brain tried to catch up with the fact that, for better or worse, it was done. The goal was completed, the stress was over, the application was in.

Eventually, he roused himself into going downstairs, where Gabriel was sprawled on the couch in the living room, drinking whiskey as he flipped through TV channels, revelling in the fact he was on extended holiday from work.

“How did it go, gorgeous boy?” Gabriel asked, raising an eyebrow when Sam wandered in and made a beeline for him. Skadi was stretched out fast asleep across Gabriel’s knees like a blanket.

In lieu of answering, Sam scooped up Skadi and laid her gently in her bed by the door. Then he grabbed Gabriel’s hand and pulled him to his feet, letting him pause to drain his drink with a chuckle before insistently leading him up the stairs.

“I can’t imagine where we’re going,” was the sarcastic response to Sam’s relocation tactic.

“I submitted it. It’s done. So now we’re going to celebrate,” Sam told him over his shoulder, but Gabriel stopped him with a hand on his back, fingers splayed up his spine. He made Sam turn and tugged him into leaning down to kiss him.

“That’s fantastic, baby! I’m so proud of you!” Gabriel murmured when they finally parted.

Sam smiled against his lips, allowing himself to give in to elation, then resumed pulling Gabriel up to their bedroom. He was circling from delirious delight to sick fear about the application, so he gave in to his physical needs instead and left the mental stress at the threshold.

He and Gabriel fell onto the bed in a flurry of half-stripped clothes, and Sam still had his jeans hanging off one ankle as Gabriel kissed his way down his body. He settled back, panting against the pillows, while Gabriel sucked away all his fears and qualms. He laughed even as he came, for some reason that was probably unholy; he felt giddy from it all, the emotion, the pleasure, Gabriel.

Gabriel crawled back up his body to kiss his neck, his chest, murmuring adoration into his sweaty skin. Sam let it wash over him, let himself believe Gabriel’s words for a few heartachingly sweet moments. Then he rolled Gabriel off him by the hips, all too eager to return the favour.

He smelt amazing: salty, musky and perfect, and Sam could hardly get enough. He stretched himself out on his stomach between Gabriel’s spread legs as his lover leant back against the headboard, petting at Sam’s neck and tugging on his hair.

“Was supposed to be a celebration for you, baby boy,” Gabriel pointed out, hands sifting through Sam’s hair.

“If you don’t think this is the best reward I could have, you’re an idiot,” Sam murmured as he let himself taste.

Sam savoured every second of it, pushing aside any other intrusive thoughts and focusing on enjoying what he had been craving for so long. He kissed the heated flesh of Gabriel’s cock as it stiffened under his attention, then settled for lapping at the tip, loving the way it made Gabriel moan. He kept his ministrations slow and light, wanting to tease Gabriel, wanting to drive him to the brink of madness the way he’d been doing to Sam for so very long.

“Baby,” Gabriel mumbled, hissing in a breath when Sam pressed his tongue to the underside of the head. “Baby boy, stop playing, come on…”

Sam licked from the base to the tip once, twice, smirking as Gabriel’s hips shifted restlessly in response. He purposefully kept his tone light and his touch lighter, “I’m giving you a taste of your own medicine, not going to give you any satisfaction. Maybe I should just -”

Gabriel cut him off with a growl, scrambling up and bundling Sam over, his eyes glinting in a way that made Sam’s blood flush with desire and his heart rate pick up with need. Sam wound up pressed down on his back, Gabriel quickly arranging himself to kneel over his face. His cock nudged at Sam’s lips.

Without a second thought, Sam opened his mouth for it obediently, letting it slide in and moaning with delight. His spiked adrenaline calmed, his brain quietened, and all of him sunk into the mattress, ready and waiting for whatever Gabriel would give. He felt safe, calm, peaceful in offering service and obedience.

“Think you can toy with me?” Gabriel growled down at him, fingers tender through Sam’s hair even as his hips pressed his cock deeper down Sam’s throat. “You think you’re in control here, baby boy? You belong to me, your pleasure belongs to me, your gorgeous cock and that sweet ass and this lovely throat are all mine to use as I like, when I want. I could deny you for the rest of the God damn year, baby…”

The taste, the feeling of him sliding deeper and deeper, his words… Sam moaned again as he reached down and began to stroke himself, working his cock to hardness once more.

“Stop that!” Gabriel yanked his hand away, then spat onto his own palm and took over. “Mine. You get your pleasure from me. You want to touch? You ask permission, baby. Understand?”

Sam whimpered his delight around the thickness in his mouth, his lower body rocking eagerly up into the friction of Gabriel’s warm palm.

_Daddy_ , he thought, but couldn’t say. _Daddy…_

It wasn’t enough, even as Gabriel started to fuck his throat. Sam needed more.

He tried to pull his head back but couldn’t, so he pushed at Gabriel’s hips. The switch flicked, and instantly Gabriel was sliding out and climbing off him, letting him up onto his knees.

“Are you alright?” The hard edge that had laced Gabriel’s voice vanished, replaced with concern. “Was that too much? I wasn’t thinking, I got too carried away. We should have talked about that first. I’m so sorry, baby, I should have given you a way to - “

Sam cut him off with a kiss, pulling Gabriel as tight as he could against his body. They were kneeling facing each other, with Gabriel’s mouth nipping at Sam’s chest and their cocks brushing together, when Sam finally managed to articulate what he wanted.

“Daddy. Daddy, fuck,” he panted, ducking his head to search for Gabriel’s lips. “I fucking loved it. And I want more, give me more, I want it all, please?”

Gabriel stroked his hair back and then made Sam look him in the eyes. Sam let his hips roll again in response to his unspoken question. They both groaned as their cocks slid together, the tip of Gabriel’s dragging wet over Sam’s frenulum.

“Daddy, please. I need you,” Sam whispered, even as he wrapped his hands around both of their cocks, pressing the undersides together and rubbing them in the circle of his palms. “Please Daddy. I want more, I need it so much. Please fuck me.”

Gabriel groaned, his head tilting back. “Oh, fuck, I know, baby. I know, my baby boy. I will.”

“Now!”

“Not now. Not tonight.”

Sam whined his distress even though he didn’t stop stroking them both, enraptured with the delight on Gabriel’s face.

As it was, Sam came first, mostly dry but loving it as his body convulsed in Gabriel’s arms. Then Gabriel was whispering filth into his hair as he followed moments later, and Sam had never felt anything so perfect as his boneless weight slumping against his chest.

“Tomorrow,” Gabriel said decisively, after they were cleaned up and back in bed, wrapped around each other.

“Tomorrow?” Sam repeated, sleepily, face pressed into Gabriel’s neck.

“I’m taking you out on a proper date tomorrow. Anything you want.”

“Sex?”

“No sex. Date. Proper, out of the house date.”

“Sex afterwards?”

“No!” Gabriel laughed, when Sam groaned his disappointment into his skin. “Proper. Date.”

*

Despite the continued sex ban, Sam was beyond excited the next morning. Gabriel smiled at him as he pulled the Porsche out of the garage, and Sam reached over to squeeze his arm.

“Did you decide what you wanted to do today?” Gabriel asked over brunch at a new artsy, kinda hipster place Sam had been wanting to try. Gabe was pouring far too much syrup on his pancakes and eyeing Sam’s acai bowl with distaste.

“The museum of modern art, if that’s OK? I’ve lived here for so many months and still haven’t had time to get there.”

“Sounds good,” Gabriel smiled warmly at him over his coffee, and Sam’s heart skipped a few beats at the sight.

They’d been at the museum for about an hour, Sam not knowing where to look, really, too excited to take it all in, when he realised Gabriel was bored out of his mind.

Gabriel was hiding it well, hand in hand with Sam and commenting idly on the exhibitions, dirty jokes aplenty. But Sam could see how his eyes were glazing quickly at each new work they stopped at, how he was re-reading the same sentence of the information plaque over and over, how he kept looking around, desperately seeking something to interest him.

So, Sam cast one last long look about the main hall, then tugged Gabriel by the hand from the room, out of the museum and into the street.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel laughed, fingers stroking the inside of Sam’s wrist as they walked. “You barely saw anything, baby.”

“I had a better idea,” Sam replied, shrugging at him.

Ten minutes later, they were walking into the ice cream museum.

The pure joy on Gabriel’s face preceded the best date Sam had ever been on.

It was nice, spending time with Gabriel outside of the house – doing something more engaging than just grocery shopping or grabbing coffee. It was easier for Sam to focus without the ever-present knowledge of their bed upstairs and all the things they could be doing to each other in it pressing on his mind. Gabriel was as attentive and hilarious as ever, taking his usual joy at making Sam laugh so hard his sides ached.

“My brother would die of excitement if he saw that,” Sam pointed at the slide into the sprinkle pool, one of the museum installations, currently clamouring with children. “He’d be bowling those kids out of the way to get to it.”

“You don’t talk about your brother much,” Gabriel murmured as they headed for the doors, the museum’s closing time approaching.

Sam shrugged. “Haven’t seen him in a while, actually. I’m not really in regular contact with him, or our Dad.”

“Can I ask why?”

Sam chewed on his lip a little as they started down the street back to where they’d parked, Gabriel’s fingers intertwined with his.

“I… I, uh, kinda cut contact with them?” Finally, Sam was being truthful about _something_ to Gabriel. It felt good. “They don’t know I’m here, actually.”

“Here… in Frisco?” Gabriel was looking up at him with concern and Sam knew he had to tread carefully.

“Uh, yeah…”

“Are you keeping that from them for a reason? Were they abusive to you?” Gabriel looked so worried now that Sam reached out to touch him, slid a hand across his shoulders to ease his tension.

“No! No, nothing like that, not really. It’s just… we have a… family business, of sorts, which I was expected to join. I never wanted to. I kept it quiet from them that I wanted this, Stanford, that I was coming here. When the time was right for me, I… I skipped out on them. I knew I’d never have their support, and cutting contact was the best way for me to start over without them pulling me back in to their idea of what my life should be.”

It took until they were halfway home for Gabriel to speak.

“Are you happy?”

“What?” Sam stared at him in surprise, tried to take his hand, but Gabriel’s fingers stayed wrapped around the wheel, his eyes fixed on the road. “Of course I am! Are you thinking I’ll up and leave _you_? It wasn’t as simple as that.”

“I’m not thinking about me or us at all, to be honest.” Gabriel shrugged. “I’m just hoping that you’re OK. Leaving your family is a big thing, and not having their support must have been rough. I’m just a little concerned you seem to be hiding yourself from them.”

“I want to make my way on my own, that’s why I left them. I’m not hiding so much as I want to be something when I see them again. I want my reinvention to make leaving and hurting them and myself worth it. I want freedom, and for them to see that with them I wasn’t free.”

At the next red-light, Gabriel leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry if I upset you, baby. I just want to know you’re OK.”

“I’m happy here with you,” Sam told him honestly. “I’ve never been this happy in my entire life.”

“Is the ice cream in the boot a factor?” Gabriel teased, as he put his foot down when the light turned green.

“No, just you,” Sam replied, thrilled at the soft smile that spread on Gabriel’s face.

*

They settled into a truly domesticated routine as January wound to a close; Gabriel worked himself ragged gearing up for the launch of his company’s latest phone, while Sam took care of the house, insisting on being useful while he waited for the outcome of his application.

Gabriel still wouldn’t have sex with him (not _sex_ sex), although they were both utterly eager for everything else under the sun. Sam rapidly became hooked on the feel and taste of Gabriel’s cock, needing it as often as Gabriel would let him near it. Gabriel, for his part, preferred to give than to receive. Often. In quick succession. He particularly seemed to like following a blowjob with a rimjob, and his favourite thing of all was trying to massage Sam’s prostate with his tongue, usually after Sam was already cross-eyed from a climax.

The intricacies of the sexual side of their relationship sorted themselves out into something that was appealing to them both. Gabriel was a surprisingly tender dominant, which Sam loved, and his own predilection to be obedient and submissive responded in kind. Watching Gabriel’s eyes go from warm and bright to hazy with lust effected Sam like nothing else.

One Saturday afternoon in February, after Sam had been wriggling around naked in bed all alone, listening to Gabriel working in the office below, he got lonely and decided to take the fun downstairs.

“Daddy,” Sam called as he padded down the staircase. He felt a little dizzy and the blood was abandoning his head in record time. Gabriel made a noise of acknowledgement as Sam stepped off the bottom stair and wandered over to his desk.

“Daddy,” Sam murmured again, trying to keep the whine from his voice. He was rock-hard, and the friction of what he’d filled himself with had him stumbling a little. He dropped to his knees next to Gabriel’s chair and waited for attention.

Gabriel reached over and stroked his hair in response. The keys clacked and after a few mouse clicks, Sam finally had gold eyes gazing down at him in fond consideration.

“Oh, my baby, look at the state of you. I can’t imagine what you’ve been getting up to while I’ve been busy.”

Sam smirked and sat up higher so Gabriel could properly appraise his cock.

“Been playing, Daddy. Got lonely.”

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Gabriel murmured, to stoke Sam’s hair once more. “What were you playing with, baby?”

Sam grinned at his chance to show off and wriggled around so Gabriel could see the last anal bead on the string, which he’d left to dangle out of his hole.

“Oh, my gorgeous boy,” Gabriel groaned, as he leaned down to stroke Sam’s back with both hands, his touch reverent. “God, that looks so good. You all full up?”

“Uh-huh,” Sam turned back around so he could lay his cheek on Gabriel’s thigh, pointedly gazing up at him.

“You want to play some more, or do you want to cum now?” Gabriel asked, still unable to stop touching him. He stroked the heated skin of Sam’s neck with soothing, strong fingers.

“Want you to play with me.”

“Daddy’s got some work he has to finish, gorgeous. I can’t right now,” Gabriel told him gently, even as he tilted Sam’s chin up so he could kiss him.

“I’ll wait for you, then.”

Gabriel huffed a little laugh, kissed him again and went back to work with a slightly ominous murmur of, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What followed was nothing short of a fucking torturous hour, in which Gabriel either emphatically ignored Sam, or else teased him to the brink of orgasm by either working the beads in and out of his aching hole or by playing with his cock until it was ready to burst.

“You said you wanted to wait,” Gabriel reminded him, looking smug. He hadn’t moved from his seat the entire time. Sam was writhing helplessly against the carpet at his feet, his ass up in the air as Gabriel slowly eased another bead out of him.

“Didn’t know you were going to be such a sadist about it!” Sam choked out, as his eyes rolled in pleasure at the sensation.

“Nuh-uh, don’t pin this on me! You said you wanted to play, and that you wanted to wait for me. So, I’m letting you play. And I’m making you wait.”

“Hate. You.” Sam panted, even as his half-delirious mind scrambled to pray that Gabriel wouldn’t edge him again.

Gabriel did. His laughter was rich as he pulled his hand away, smirking at the way Sam’s aching cock pulsed helplessly.

“I hate you!”

“Shhh, shhh,” Gabriel helped Sam to sit up and drape his upper body over his lap for some comfort. “We both know that’s not true.”

Sam pressed his face against Gabriel’s hip and groaned.

“No more edging!”

“OK,” Gabriel agreed. “But there’s still one bead to go…”

When Sam was finally allowed to cum, he did so in record time, and took more pleasure at the look on Gabriel’s face as he watched him than he did at the actual climax.

He didn’t know where to start with what that must say about him.

*

Insanely good sex aside, they didn’t only spend their time with each other, however.

Charlie came around frequently, and she and Sam bonded quickly over a shared love of fantasy literature and sci-fi movies. Gabriel, Pam, and Benny started up a poker night on Sundays, and Jo would drag Kevin and Sam off for video games at the other end of the lounge. Sam appreciated that the ‘Kings’ crew all still made the effort to see him; he didn’t miss the club in the slightest, but the friends he had made there were for life.

As it turned out, Gabriel was away on a business trip to New York when Sam got the letter from Stanford. Already out of his mind with fear, the prospect of finding out the answer while all alone made him want to be sick.

He sat on their bed holding the envelope, too afraid to open it, waiting for Gabriel to pick up his call.

It was not his name on the envelope, it was Campbell Wesson’s, and God, fuck, what the hell was he _doing_ …

“Hi, my gorgeous. How are you?”

“I, uh… I miss you, Daddy,” Sam mumbled.

“I miss you too, baby boy.” There was a smile in Gabriel’s voice.

“I got my letter.”

“Letter? Oh! From Stanford? Holy shit! And?” Gabriel’s excitement was palpable, and Sam clung to the phone, needing the encouragement more than he would have thought possible.

“Haven’t opened it yet.”

“You wanna do it now, baby?”

“Want you here,” Sam muttered, petulant, scared.

“I know, my gorgeous boy. I know. I want to be with you too. But I think you should open it.”

“I don’t know if I can. Not without you.”

“I’m right here, baby.”

Sam sighed down the line, then ripped the envelope open before he could lose his nerve.

“Oh fuck, Gabriel,” he whispered, as he let his eyes scan the letter, only really registering every second word. “I got in, I think. Yeah. Yes. I got in!”

“I knew you would!” Gabriel’s howl of triumph was so loud that it had Sam pulling the phone away from his ear. “Oh, my perfect baby boy, I knew it! I’m so proud of you!”

Sam laughed a little shakily, surprised at how emotional he was feeling, sitting with his eyes wet, all alone. He wanted Gabriel so badly then that he simply whined a little down the phone.

“I know, my baby, my gorgeous boy. I’ll be back with you as quick as I can. How are you feeling?”

“I can’t quite believe it. This has been the thing I’ve held on to for so long. I never really considered that I would achieve it. I never really thought I’d get in. What do I do now?”

“You learn all you can and study hard and become a kickass, hotter than sin lawyer, baby!”

“I miss you a lot,” Sam flushed, not sure how to convey it without Gabriel able to see the physical cue. “Like, a lot.”

“Oh, baby, you’re so sweet. I can’t wait to get home to you, and we can celebrate properly,” Gabriel chuckled.

“Me either. I want you here so badly…” Sam still acutely remembered the night he’d submitted the application, Gabriel’s words as he knelt over him right here on the bed.

_You want to touch? You ask permission, baby._

And how kinky things had gotten in Gabriel’s office last week, fuck…

“Can I touch, Daddy? I need you.”

“Oh, my baby boy… Of course you can.”

Sam let out a pleased sigh as he gave himself a squeeze through his jeans and tried to ignore the way his cheeks flushed as he tried to keep his voice calm. “Thank you, Daddy… “

“Are you in bed, baby? I miss you so much.”

“Mmmm,” Sam agreed, squeezing himself again, before he scooted back to lay down properly and get his fly open. “It feels so good to touch myself. But I want you, Daddy.”

Gabriel moaned softly down the line, “What I could be doing to you right now… I would make you feel so good, baby boy. I’ve been thinking about your pretty cock every day I’ve been away!”

“I’ve thought about yours, too,” Sam told him. “I’ve thought about how much I love to touch it, and taste it… right now, I’m thinking about how it would feel as you slide into me… please say you’ll finally fuck me? Haven’t I been good?”

“Oh fuck… God, what you’re doing to me… yeah, you’ve be so good for me, baby.”

“I’m going so crazy for you,” Sam whispered, unable to stop his voice getting lower, filthier. “I need you so badly.”

“Baby boy… you’re making me so hard… You know I want you so much!”

“Mmmm, wish I could get my hands on that hard cock right now,” Sam let a whine creep into his voice, as he kicked his jeans and briefs down and licked his fingertips before reaching underneath himself to circle his hole. “I feel so empty, I’m aching for you.”

“Yeah? You need something to fill you up and make you feel good?”

“Need _you_. Going mad, my hole’s begging for you, fluttering, throbbing… please come home right now and fill it up! Give me your perfect cock at last, please, Daddy?!”

“Fuck! Fuck, baby boy… fuck, you need me, huh? You need your Daddy to come home and take care of you? Give you what you’ve been waiting for?”

“Yes! Need you so bad, Daddy, please! Come and fuck me, Daddy!” Sam moaned, letting his inhibitions go as he settled back and began to tug at his hole.

“Fuck you sound so good, you gorgeous, lovely, dirty boy…”

“Daddy…”

“Fuck,” Gabriel spat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“I want you; I need you!” Sam wailed, abandoning his hole in favour of stroking his begging cock, too far gone to comprehend the existence of speaker phone and the possibility of having both hands free.

“I know baby, I know! Daddy’s going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you, baby boy, I promise, and you’re going to feel so sweet and perfect around me!”

“You could have been fucking me for months!” Sam tried not to sound too resentful, but he was whiny with need regardless, his voice high, reedy and thin.

“Didn’t want you distracted, gorgeous. And I wanted to make sure things were going well before I took you to bed. That was always more important.”

“I want your cock right now! So bad that I can’t fucking see straight! Nothing matters more than that!”

Gabriel just laughed low and filthy, and Sam pitched himself over onto his front so he could wriggle onto his knees and fuck down into his fist, imagining it was Gabriel’s hand. He came all over the sheets, sobbing with relief, Gabriel’s breath panting in his ear.

*

Sam woke the next morning when Gabriel burst through the bedroom door, and he was scrambling out of the bed to meet him before his eyes were even fully open.

“Hi, gorgeous, hi, hi,” Gabriel just had time to murmur before Sam found his mouth.

“Daddy,” Sam moaned against his lips. “How?”

“Got the first flight I could after we hung up last night,” Gabriel pushed him back onto the bed and clambered on top of him. Sam almost wanted to cry in relief, as he wound his bare legs around Gabriel’s waist to hold him as close as he could.

“I think I left half my shit in the hotel room, but I don’t care. I had to get here, baby. Had to come give you what you need.”

“Finally,” Sam laughed, euphoria flooding his senses. “Fucking finally!”

In the end it was frantic, quick, messy and the best sex Sam had ever had. The need had built into a raging tidal wave between them, drowning them in their own desperation, making everything thick and hot and tight. Sam tried to strip Gabriel properly, but Gabriel wouldn’t let him, just shoved his trousers down enough to get his cock free; Gabriel wanted to prep him carefully, to work Sam open with his fingers and his tongue, but Sam just thrashed and begged and wailed for his cock, letting himself clench and release around the three fingers Gabriel had wedged into him, trying to show him he didn’t want to wait anymore.

“Give it to me,” he gritted out. “I can take it! I want it.”

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Gabriel murmured back, transfixed in watching the way Sam’s body tugged at his fingers. “So tight, baby.”

“I want you. Now! Now, please, come on, now, Daddy…”

Gabriel groaned as he pulled his fingers out, then groaned again as he lined himself up, moving up onto his knees between Sam’s spread legs. Sam rubbed himself against the head of his cock, mindless for it.

Gabriel took Sam’s chin in one hand with a low murmur of, “Look at me, baby,” as he started to press in.

Sam did, forcing his eyes open. Gabriel was the most perfect sight he’d ever seen; his cheeks were flushed pink, his hair was darkening with sweat and his eyes were molten gold, gazing down at Sam with so much intensity it made him shiver.

“Finally. Finally,” Sam whispered, and Gabriel whimpered back in delight as he slid in little by little, his rigid cock so thick and warm. Sam dropped back against the sheets, resettling his legs around Gabriel’s hips, and trying not to break eye-contact. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to just impale himself as hard and fast as he could.

Gabriel wanted to be gentle, but Sam began to wriggle under him, clenching around his cock and whining, drawing him in deeper and trying to make it as tight as he could, trying to break Gabriel’s control.

Gabriel cried out after a few moments, muffled a howl into Sam’s chest before he gripped his shoulders and let his gentle thrusts get deeper, longer, harder.

Neither of them lasted all that long, in the end; Sam came first, and Gabriel followed as he watched his face crumple under him, Sam’s mouth falling open as he sucked in breaths, his brow furrowing at just how fucking _good_ it felt.

Sam didn’t know what day of the week it was, didn’t know what the time was, didn’t know when he last ate or showered. All that mattered was Gabriel’s weight collapsing onto him, the warm wetness inside him, and the bone-heavy sated exhaustion that settled over his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Apparently, it was Wednesday.

Gabriel seemed inordinately pleased to have driven all sense of time and place out of Sam’s mind. He packed Sam into the bath with a filthy smile, gazing down at him with so much reverence as he knelt astride him, that Sam’s heart twisted up with love, with guilt.

With Sam having already been pitched head-first through one orgasm, having Gabriel rub so teasingly slow at his spent cock was a sweet sort of torture. Gabriel started light and gentle, but it wasn’t long until his hand was moving in a frenzy and Sam was wailing and thrashing wildly from the overstimulation. The older man was completely and perfectly in control, and Sam couldn’t tear his eyes from the relaxed confidence in his face. Gabriel coaxed him to his second orgasm, and Sam clung to him, not knowing how to cope with the sensation.

“Oh God, Daddy! I can’t…” Sam wailed, grasping at his shoulders with clenched fingers. The water splashed out onto the bathroom floor as he thrashed his body about in agony.

“Yeah, you can, baby. You can do it for me,” Gabriel murmured to him, eyes gentle with assurance. “Daddy’s gonna get you there.”

“It’s so much.” Sam’s whole body was trembling, his cock too sensitive, but Gabriel’s hand was mercilessly perfect.

“I know, baby. But you look so good. You’re so good, and you’re gonna give Daddy another because you’re such a perfect boy for me…”

And Sam did, mouth open in a choked scream, muffled in Gabriel’s neck as his eyes slid back in his head.

Sam kept clutching him like he was drowning, even after his body had stilled and his heart rate had slowed. How Gabriel had been able to work him through another orgasm in such a short space of time was beyond him.

They spent the rest of the day in close proximity, holding hands when they were near enough to each other, kissing at every opportunity. Sam settled down in Gabriel’s office with his laptop, not wanting to stray too far away. He ended up taking over his couch but kept getting up for more kissing every few minutes. Gabriel indulged him every time. So, naturally, neither of them really got much of anything done.

Sam didn’t want it to stop. Not ever. He thought he could happily spend the rest of his life this way, as close to Gabriel as possible.

Then reality screamed back into his life in the worst way, hitting him where he was most vulnerable, roaring and rearing, and Sam had no defence.

Dean left a voicemail while Sam was tidying the kitchen up after dinner that evening, and he was in such a good mood that he listened to it straight away.

But his older brother’s tone was so panicked and scared that Sam’s happiness exploded into pieces in an instant. It was happening. The Winchester men had found a way to obliterate his bliss, the way Sam had always known they would.

“Sammy,” Dean’s voice was a whimper down the phone. “Sammy! I need your help. I know you don’t want to see me, OK, I know, I get it, but… Sam, Dad’s missing. Things went bad, he hasn’t made the rendezvous point. It’s been four days. Sam! Please! I need you to help me, man, I don’t know what to do!”

Sam listened to the message again, then for a third time, one eye on Gabriel, who was packing the dishwasher completely incorrectly.

At any other time, Sam would have commented on how adorable it was that his genius boyfriend still couldn’t figure out the right way to turn the plates. But it wasn’t any other time anymore. Those times were likely over now.

Dean was begging for help and Sam could never say no to him.

His past, and the one person who could lure him back to it, had finally got claws in.

Sam’s heart hammered in his chest as he silently ducked out onto the patio and called Dean back.

“Sammy!” The pain and fear in his brother’s tone just fucking killed him. Sam could, and probably would, resent Dean for his loyalty to their father all his life, but his love for him would always be insurmountable, and would always win.

“Dean! I’m here! What happened?”

“Sammy! I don’t… I don’t know what to do! There’s been no message from him, nothing. Either he’s had to go dark, or…”

John had never done this; even with his shitty parenting and the even shittier life he’d dragged his sons through, he’d never been uncontactable. Never out of reach. It was for the same reason why Sam forced himself to text his brother, to speak on the phone to him occasionally, to offer _something_ ; the fear an imagination run wild could create from sudden silence from a loved one wasn’t fair, even with Sam’s bitterness for his father tinging everything with angry red.

John would never do this to Dean, to either of them, unless something was very wrong.

“Where are you?” Sam asked Dean, trying to keep his tone calm.

“Uh. Springfield, Illinois.”

Sam chewed his lip. “I’ll meet you Colorado Springs. Usual place.”

“You on the west coast?”

“No,” Sam lied. “I’ll be there Friday.”

“Sammy. Thank you.”

“Not doing this for him,” Sam muttered. He ended the call quick, hanging up before he could allow his emotions to spiral any further. When he turned back to the house, Gabriel was lingering by the door looking concerned. His gold eyes were gazing at Sam curiously, almost thoughtfully, as if he could read the answers to his inevitable questions from his face, his body. He couldn’t. Sam had perfected his mask, his veneer, years ago.

Campbell was well and truly indentured into Sam’s soul – he was Campbell more than he was Sam, now. So many lies, and so big. If Gabriel ever found out, there was no way he would forgive him now.

“Is everything OK?” Gabriel murmured, reaching for him.

“I… I have to go out of town for a few days. There’s some family… stuff… I have to help my brother take care of.”

Sam chewed at his lip as he pocketed his phone, returning to Gabriel’s side and slipping his arms about the shorter man’s waist. It was so tempting to dismiss the call, pretend to think twice and decide not to go after all, to have this, to have Gabriel, a little longer. Delete the call history and the voicemails. Pretend his brother no longer existed and that his father was as good as dead.

No. Dean needed him; Sam had to go. There was no choice there.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Gabriel asked.

“No,” _fuck_ no. “It’s fine. Just… my brother needs me for something. I’ll just be a few days.”

Sam forced himself to smile, the lies easy, before he leaned down to kiss away Gabriel’s worried frown. Distraction and misdirection were among his tried-and-true tactics and had saved Sam more times than he could count. It made life easier, made things more bearable.

“Everything’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’ll head off first thing, though.” Sam pulled Gabriel closer, forced a cocky smile to play on his lips even though he wanted to weep at the thought of leaving him.

“So,” he carried on, pitching his voice low, dangerous with promise, “why don’t you take me upstairs and fuck me senseless to tide me over while I’m gone?”

“I could, I suppose,” Gabriel agreed, turning to lazily kiss a path up Sam’s neck. “Or maybe I won’t fuck you at all. Maybe it’s better to make you go crazy with how bad you want it. Then when you get back, we lock ourselves in the bedroom for a few days…”

Sam was too impatient even to think about that and pressed the evidence of his need against Gabriel’s hip. He needed him, right now. He needed to be driven out of his mind, to forget about the call and his promise and his brother and their dad. He needed Gabriel.

“I like my idea better.”

“Of course, you do,” Gabriel laughed, and when he kissed Sam slow and gentle, Sam sank down into it. He let Gabriel’s demanding mouth and wandering hands coax all the fear and turmoil away and treasured every second.

*

Sam’s ass still ached from the previous night’s escapades, as he made his way down to the garage the following morning. Gabriel had tied him down and filled him up with a vibrator, then sat back and watched, chuckling, as Sam had wailed and writhed in their bed.

He’d called Gabriel every name under the sun to try and provoke him into breaking his façade of calm, but that had only incited more laughter. So, Sam had switched tactics, whining for his Daddy to help him, promising to be good.

That had achieved… well, something. Gabriel had murmured to him in pity, had even settled on the bed beside him and taken Sam’s tormented cock in his warm palm.

“Need Daddy to take care of this pretty cock, baby?”

“Please,” Sam had whimpered. “Please, Daddy?”

“Hmmm. Nope. Don’t think so.”

More whimpering had ensued then, which had culminated in Sam cumming completely untouched as the vibrations focused too intensely on the sweetest place. Gabriel had stroked Sam’s hair and moaned along as he’d watched. Then he’d replaced the vibrator with his cock and the sensation of him sliding in made Sam’s toes curl. They’d kissed their way through Gabriel’s orgasm, grunted out in delight into Sam’s mouth.

The bed had been such a mess after that they’d ended up sleeping in Sam’s old room, wrapped around each other until the alarm that morning had parted them, Sam to the shower and Gabriel to roll over and go back to sleep for a few minutes longer.

They kissed goodbye for what felt like hours in the garage, and yet it still wasn’t anywhere near long enough.

*

Already missing Gabriel after just crossing into Nevada, Sam forced himself to focus on getting to Dean, and about how on earth to begin the search for their dad.

The drive to meet his brother took a full day, and every mile further that he travelled away from Gabriel hurt.

Sam had skipped out on his family over a year ago now and hadn’t laid eyes on them since. He mostly ignored Dean’s texts and calls, unless he judged a fair enough length of time had passed that proof that he was still alive should be provided.

His dad hadn’t tried to contact him at all, not once.

When Dean had figured out that Sam was booking it and wasn’t going to meet them at the safe house in Tuscaloosa, where they always went when jobs in Alabama went pear-shaped, he had called him immediately.

Remembering that conversation still broke Sam’s heart; he replayed it in his head when he was at his lowest, to punish himself. Because yeah, he was coping _fine_.

Sam had been crying when he’d answered the phone, already almost out of Arkansas in his hot-wired car, a duffle of clothes and his shoddy laptop all that was riding shotgun.

“I have to! I have to, alright! I’m not doing this anymore; I’m not living his life anymore. You can’t stop me, Dean! And you won’t find me!”

“Sammy. Sammy, come back, we can talk about this!” The pain and desperation in Dean’s howl down the line had made the blood pumping from Sam’s erratic heart feel like it was thickening, curdling in his veins.

“No, Dean.”

Sam had hung up and hadn’t turned his phone back on for another month. His life since had been one hounded, nervous; even now, finally knowing comfort and happiness and love with Gabriel, he was still scared. He still hadn’t found peace, not really. The purr of a Chevy engine, an unsolicited knock at the door, a glimpse of any man even remotely physically similar to either his beloved brother or reviled father… Sam’s senses were trained, honed, locked in on the merest suggestion of any sign that the Winchester’s had finally come for him.

As it were, he was going straight to them.

Dean wouldn’t lie to him; something had happened in some way to John. But Sam wasn’t stupid. The Winchester’s would try to lure him back to his old life and his old ways and his old identity. They would break Sam Winchester free from his locked cell, if they could.

They couldn’t.

Gabriel was all that Sam wanted now. Gabriel and Stanford. Gabriel and a normal, happy, beautiful future where he didn’t have to live out of a duffle, scam strangers who didn’t deserve it just to have the money to eat and skip each new town after just a few days.

So, he’d meet Dean in Colorado Springs. They’d trawl each state for John, check their safe houses, talk to their contacts, follow any lead they could get their hands for where John might be and why.

Sam Winchester would see his father safely reunited with Dean. Then Campbell Wesson would go home.

*

Dean, when he swung open the motel door in response to Sam’s coded knock the following evening, looked at least ten years older than his 26.

“Sammy?” His brother whispered, his green eyes wide, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. Then Sam had arms wrapped around him and he was hugging his brother back, happy and sad all at once.

“Hey, Dean,” he murmured when they parted, resisting the instinct to cling on tight and linger. “You doing OK?”

“I guess.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck as he shuffled aside to let Sam inside, and God, the memories as Sam looked around the room struck like a physical blow.

The décor, the layout, the crappiness of the cheap furniture… every motel room ever occupied by the Winchester’s always looked the same – a rumpled, unmade bed usually belonging to Dean; bags never unpacked, always ready to go at the door; beer bottles and takeout wrappers on every surface.

The nostalgia hit Sam about three seconds before the disgust at how indentured he’d been in this life. He peered about the room, instinctively looking for John, before he sighed.

“What happened, man?”

“Could ask you the same thing. Got a Californian license plate on that fancy ride of yours. Where’d you nick it from?”

“I’m not here to answer your questions, Dean. I’m here to help you find Dad, then go home.”

“Home? Your home is with us!” The resentment in Dean’s tone stung, but Sam forced himself to stay calm, to think of Gabriel. The sooner he was done here, the sooner he would be back where he belonged, in Gabriel’s arms.

Clearing his throat, Sam repeated his earlier question as he swept a few paper bags stuffed with burger wrappers into the bin and sat down at the dining table.

“What happened with the job?”

“It was routine,” Dean grumbled, sitting on his bed and taking up his gun to resume cleaning it. “Simple. Nothing we hadn’t done a hundred times. I swiped some wallets at an art auction. Dad was supposed to be charming the diamonds off some rich housewife’s neck in a back room. Someone raised the alarm, we split. Only Dad never made it back to the Impala, four blocks away. I circled the location, went back to the motel room, drove around for hours looking. Nothing. I hit every safe house in the state. No sign of him.”

“But why wouldn’t he check in with you by now?”

“I don’t know!”

“Well I saw no sign of him on my way here.”

“I’ve done everything, checked everywhere… why would he go so far from me?” Dean was so confused.

“Maybe he got a lead on a better hit… or maybe he got recognised and had to drop a tail?” Sam rubbed at his eyes, frustrated. John could be anywhere in the whole country. “You’re just going to have to wait for him to check in. If he never made it back to the room, he hasn’t got any of his supplies, he’d have to find some way to charge his phone…”

“It’s been almost a week,” Dean muttered, shaking his head. “Something’s wrong.”

“What do the police reports say?”

“Nothing I can get to offers any hint!”

“We will find him, Dean. Somehow. I promise.”

Dean didn’t look convinced, but he at least offered Sam a tight smile. “I’m glad you’re finally back, at least.”

“You know I’m not staying.”

Dean rolled his eyes and Sam scowled back at him.

“We’ll hit the road first thing; we’ll take the Impala. Leave your ride here.”

“No. You take the Impala; I take my car. Which I will then use to get home once Dad is found.”

That set Dean off again, and they were still arguing when Sam fell asleep hours later, feeling lonely and cold in his single bed.

*

In the end, John found them, as Sam had mostly expected he would. Sam and Dean had trawled through the surrounding states of Colorado with a fine-toothed comb for almost a week, working their way north, but had turned up absolutely no sign of him.

That was, until Sam woke to the sound of the lock of their crappy motel room in Milwaukee being picked and was bolting upright with one of Dean’s guns trained on the door.

John stared back at him in surprise from the threshold, unshaven and weary, but otherwise looking healthy and whole. They gaped at each other for a long moment before Dean snorted and came awake in the other bed.

“Dad!”

“Son? Sam?”

“Hi, Dad,” Sam murmured, before he slowly slid from the bed.

John crossed the room to him and grabbed his shoulders, looking like he was seeing a ghost before he pulled Sam in for a hug. Sam tried to make himself relax into it, but the tension in both of them made it stiff and awkward.

Still, John seemed genuine enough when he let Sam go after a quick pat on the back.

“It’s good to see you, son.”

“Dad, what happened!” Dean rubbed at his eyes, flipping the blankets back to get out of bed. He hadn’t been sleeping well the past week, or maybe he’d never slept well at all, and Sam just hadn’t noticed before this foray back into his company.

As John filled Dean in on how he had scrambled out of the fire exit at the auction and straight into the path of two cops and their doberman, Sam quietly grabbed his bag, his jacket from the back of a chair, his phone, wallet, and keys. He was just tugging his charger from the wall when Dean grabbed his arm.

“What are you doing?!” The confusion on his face gnashed like teeth at Sam’s heart, but John put a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“What he was always going to do.”

“No, come on. Sam! Don’t be an idiot! You can’t leave!”

Sam shovelled the charger into his bag and couldn’t look at either of them.

“Dad’s back, safe and sound. I’m going home, Dean. I’ve been clear with you about that all along.”

“Your home is with us! Don’t you get that! How can you possibly want to leave?!”

“Why would I want to stay?!”

“Let him go, Dean,” John pulled at Dean’s arms as he tried to grab Sam back. Sam got as far as the door before the guilt got its fangs in too deep.

“It’s not about you, not either of you, don’t you realise that yet? You’re my family, yes, always. But I don’t want this. I don’t want to live this way, to do these jobs, to be this person! I never did and I never will! I won’t come back, not for anything.”

“So, what, we’re not good enough for you now?! You’re too high and mighty with your fancy car to slum it with your family! We’ve given you _everything_!”

“You’ve given me nothing. Nothing but lies and broken promises and a set of lockpicks,” Sam corrected, before Dean broke free of their Dad long enough to punch him in the face.

That drove Sam out the door, propelled him into his car, where he stabbed blindly through his tears to get the key into the ignition.

John tapped on the glass, hair already plastered to his face by the rain, but Sam ignored him, didn’t acknowledge the call of, “Text us when you get home, so we know you’re safe.”

He just peeled the car from the parking space, jumped the curb, and sped off into the night.

Sam didn’t know why John was letting him go so easy, but as he tore down the 43, he didn’t care. Every gold headlight was Gabriel’s eyes, every rev of his engine his name.

Sam called and left Gabriel a voicemail that said everything but nothing at all, even though it was 3am in Milwaukee, and 1am in Frisco, though he hung up before he got too soppy and admitted he was in love with him.

He wasn’t doing that by phone, nor with his eyes practically blind by tears, his jaw aching and blood in his mouth.

*

It took two days for Sam to get home, with a few reluctant stops for sleep. He kept his eyes on the rear-view mirror as often as he could, waiting for the Impala to appear on the horizon, the usual sick sensation that he was cornered prey circling his gut.

The feeling didn’t start to ease until he was back in San Francisco, going too fast down their street, and then he was pulling into the garage. Sam was out of the car and into the foyer, and the sight of Gabriel hurtling down the stairs to meet him, Skadi hyped up and yapping at his heels, took his breath away.

Then Sam was in his arms and their bodies were pressed together and he could finally bury his face in Gabriel’s hair. His contented sigh came out ragged, but he didn’t care. Finally, he was safe. The weight lifted off his shoulders and the pain that Dean’s face and words and fist had stabbed into his heart bled out, lessened, eased, soothed.

“Baby, I missed you. God, I missed you so much,” Gabriel was murmuring into his neck, arms a vice around his waist.

“Missed you,” Sam mumbled back, too afraid to say anymore unless he started crying, the tears already a threatening prickle in his eyes. He dropped a hand to Skadi’s head to stop her frantic leaps up at them for attention, then knelt to pet her, trying to get his eyes dry.

“Hi, Skadi girl, did you miss me too?” She shoved herself up into his arms and he let her lick him, taking the excuse to duck away to quickly wash his face.

Gabriel was in the kitchen when Sam found him, something simmering away on the stove.

“Are you trying to cook for me?” Sam teased him, feeling lighter than he had since Dean had first called.

Gabriel smiled and shrugged, before he stretched up on his toes to kiss him. Sam pressed down to meet his mouth, not sure how the hell he had managed to survive so long without it. Perhaps he hadn’t really been surviving at all.

“I have an ulterior motive,” Gabriel confessed, a predatory grin spreading on his face once they parted.

“What’s that, then?” Sam asked through a yawn, glancing at the clock on the wall that was shaped like Elvis’ profile. It was just after 4am. Jesus.

“I’m taking you up to bed and you’re not leaving it,” Gabriel’s tone was light, and Sam couldn’t help but shudder in delight at the implication. “So, I gotta make sure you have plenty of energy.”

Sam just laughed as he peered again into the pot of what appeared to be ramen.

“And this is going to achieve that?”

“This? No, this is just to get you through the next ten minutes. Get your jeans off.”

Sam was still laughing when Gabriel turned and pressed him back against the counter, hands already working on his belt.

*

Gabriel did let Sam out of bed later in the morning, in the end, only it didn’t last long because they started kissing again in the shower.

Then Sam was back spread out on his stomach on the sheets, still damp from the water, moaning into a pillow as Gabriel worked his fingers back into where he’d been cumming not five minutes prior.

Sam yelled out, Gabriel’s name filling his mouth, when his sensitive prostate was grazed again. But Gabriel was ruthless, rubbing and pressing at it even as Sam thrashed beneath him, completely overwhelmed.

“I know, baby,” God damn, the smirk was so clear in Gabriel’s voice even though Sam couldn’t see his face. “It’s so much, isn’t it? But you always take it so well, and your hole just looks so good when it’s stuffed full.”

“Daddy,” Sam pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, then arched his back so he could crane his neck and look over his shoulder. “Daddy… DADDY!”

Gabriel’s eyes flicked up to his face, assessing his need. “Just a little longer, baby boy, just a little more for me.”

Gabriel’s fingers were curling and prodding, not breaking their rhythm for a second, even when Sam dropped back down on his belly with a wail.

“Little longer, gorgeous, little more for me… almost there, baby… I can feel you clenching, feel you trembling, I know you’re nearly there…”

Sam came, growling and mindlessly humping the pillow beneath his hips, as those crooking fingers worked him once more into numbed, blissful oblivion.

*

When Sam hauled himself out of bed the next time he woke, he found he was sore in so many good ways, aching in so many happy-to-ache places. Gabriel always took him apart like that, blew his mind so thoroughly that it took him some time to realise the ravaged effects on his body.

Sam could hear Gabriel typing away in his office downstairs, so he headed down hoping idly that Gabriel wasn’t on a video call or whatever.

Those fucking glasses… as soon as he caught sight of Gabriel, seated at his desk, blinking up at him as a slow smile curled his lips, Sam needed him again.

“Awake at last, baby boy? You’ve slept almost 12 hours straight.”

“What time is it?”

“About 8 in the evening. Tuesday, in case you’ve lost track of time.”

Sam grunted a little, then ambled over the desk, already starting to get hard just looking at Gabriel.

“Want a break? Or I could get you something? Tea?”

Gabriel’s eyes flicked up to his face, then dropped down to his thickening cock.

“No, I don’t need anything. But you certainly seem to.”

“Yeah, I guess I could use… something…”

He didn’t have to be asked twice when Gabriel gestured for him to get up on the desk, just clambered up onto the cold glass as Gabriel snapped his laptop shut. Sam spread his legs to plant his feet on the arms of Gabriel’s chair, then reached out to touch him.

It was Gabriel who moaned in approval when he wrapped his lips around the tip of Sam’s cock and let his tongue start to stroke him.

“Feels so good,” Sam groaned as he felt himself getting thicker and harder on that warm tongue.

“Oh, baby boy, you have no idea…”

“Gabriel. Daddy,” Sam moaned helplessly, rubbing at his shoulders, and squeezing his neck; it was too much and not enough all at once and his orgasm surprised them both when he suddenly came unbidden down Gabriel’s throat after just a few minutes.

“I’m sorry! Fuck, that was fast!” he gasped, but Gabriel just hummed and kept sucking, until Sam was a moaning mess, flat on his back on the desk.

“How?” Sam mumbled, sometime later, finally moved by the coldness of the glass to sit up, feeling as though his mouth was full of cotton wool.

“How what?” Gabriel smirked at him, having not moved from his chair.

“How do you take my brain and scramble it all up like that?” Sam wondered, shaking his hair back before clambering down to straddle Gabriel’s lap, one hand dropping between his legs.

Not at all surprisingly, he ended up back on the desk again about five minutes later, his head hanging off the side as Gabriel fucked into his mouth.

Sam needed another nap after that, didn’t eat dinner until around midnight, and couldn’t stop smiling.

*

A few days passed in a haze – Sam cooked, worked out, kept the house clean, hunted for jobs and got fucked senseless on repeat. Were it not for the fear of the Impala’s engine reverberating in the street, his terror at every knock at the door or ring of his phone, he would have been so happy.

Sam had made a mistake, he knew.

He’d stayed in one place too long. Campbell had held still too long. He shouldn’t have come to San Francisco, so close to Palo Alto, this soon. He could have applied to Stanford from anywhere – hadn’t even had to go there, not really, there were other schools…

He’d made a mistake, and now he was going to pay because there was no way Dean and John wouldn’t find him. Someone from his old life would spot him, then they would pass the word along their network and the Winchester’s would find him. If only Sam had listened to Bela, he realised, as he tossed and turned in Gabriel’s arms one night. If he’d told Gabriel the truth earlier, about who he was, why he’d lied, the false identity he’d built for his own protection, it might not have mattered when the Winchester’s inevitably appeared.

Gabriel would probably have been confused at first, perhaps a little hurt or angry, but Sam’s intentions had never been false, and God _dammit_ they still weren’t. They could have got through it. They could have been together.

Now it felt too late.

As Sam lay gazing at Gabriel in the moonlight, the guilt and fear made his stomach churn in a way that drove him from the bed. He threw up in the bathroom of the guest room that reminded him of Dean, so that Gabriel won’t hear, then took himself downstairs.

He drank water, then threw up again when his stomach rejected it. He slumped at the kitchen counter, groaning and shivering in the cool air.

He wasn’t tired and didn’t deserve to be in the presence of the perfect man in the bed upstairs anyway. But he also didn’t want to have to explain sleeping elsewhere so he ended up pottering about in the kitchen, too restless to settle.

Gabriel had said something the previous evening about buying doughnuts for his employees on his way to work the next morning. Sam’s brain, desperate for distraction, fixated on the idea of baking cookies for him to take instead. He had dressed, gone to the store for ingredients, and come back all before 3am.

Sam was just creaming the butter and sugar together by hand, not wanting to risk waking Gabriel by using the food processor even though he probably wouldn’t hear it, when the man wandered into the kitchen anyway, yawning.

“Baby? What are you doing?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Sam murmured, smiling gently when Gabriel kissed his back between his shoulder blades. “Thought I’d bake you something for tomorrow, so you don’t have to stop on your way to work.”

“Baby, that’s so sweet! But you should be sleeping!”

“I couldn’t,” Sam repeated, shrugging over his shoulder at Gabriel as he measured out the flour.

“Is something the matter?” Gabriel rubbed at Sam’s shoulders before he wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed his cheek to his back. “Is something bothering you?”

“No.” _Yes, God yes, you have no idea_ …

Sam could tell him. Sam could so easily turn around and face Gabriel and admit that he’d been lying about who he was, his name, his identity. He could do it, and it would be done, and the guilt wouldn’t weigh so thick over his psyche anymore. They could still salvage this; Gabriel cared about him, and if Sam could explain the details of his past that had led him to invent Campbell Wesson in the first place… no, Gabriel would reject him, God, there was no way he would want Sam now… Sam Winchester was a criminal…

He could do it. He needed to do it.

He doesn’t do it.

Instead, he finished up preparing the cookie mixture and Gabriel stifled his yawns as he helped him spoon it out onto baking sheets. Then Sam pinned Gabriel’s hips back against the counter and blew him while they waited for the cookies to bake, sucking for all he was worth as Gabriel moaned and rocked into his mouth.

“Baby! Oh God, my baby boy, that feels amazing!”

Sam could do this, could still offer _this_.

He could still have this. He could still give Gabriel pleasure, just not the truth. He could still offer his body, just not his past. He could still touch Gabriel, kiss him, make him feel good, make him feel cared for and supported and listened to and wanted, he just couldn’t tell him his real identity, what his name really was, what secrets he kept locked away and why.

It was going to have to be enough because there was no alternative anymore.

Sam sucked hard, hallowing his cheeks, focusing on the little cries falling from Gabriel’s mouth. Fingers curled into his hair, and he looked up to see Gabriel gazing down at him, eyes soft with affection. A thumb stroked over his cheek.

“So perfect for me, baby. You’re so perfect.”

Sam bent his head back to his task, needing to make it good, needing to get something right. The only real, truthful, tangible thing he felt he could do for Gabriel. He worked at the slit with his tongue, and another cry ripped from Gabriel’s throat before he petted at Sam’s head. Sam pulled back in time to use his hand and watched Gabriel’s orgasm shudder through him, watched his head tilt back in pleasure, watched his lips part as he gasped, watched his cock as he came messy all over his stomach.

Gabriel slumped against the marble counter and gazed down at him with something akin to reverence, as Sam cleaned him up with a wet paper towel and moved to wash his hands at the sink.

“What is it?” Sam asked, after he’d dried his hands and was checking on the cookies, blushing a little at Gabriel’s continued blatant attention.

“I just really can’t comprehend how I get to be with you.”

“I’m not that great. It’s me who’s lucky.” _God if only you knew_ …

“You are! You just blew me, while baking me cookies! Two of the best things in the whole world! And you’re perfect at far more than just sex and cooking!”

Sam laughed, ducking his head to hide his blush, before Gabriel moved into his space and let his hands slide up to cup his neck, making Sam meet his eyes.

“I want to say something to you,” Gabriel murmured to him, and for a second Sam felt sick, petrified that he’d been found out.

But what Gabriel was going to say was already there in his eyes.

Sam’s fear turned to need, his chilled blood turned raging hot, his heart stuttering, aching, with how badly he wanted to hear it.

“What is it?” Sam breathed, his throat feeling too tight, eyes prickling, as Gabriel’s fingertips brushed feather-light across the top of his spine.

“You know what,” Gabriel smiled, his eyes and his voice warm and rich and gold. “Do you want me to say it?”

“I… do you want to say it?”

“I want to say it. Yeah. Of course I do.”

“If you want to say it, say it. Because I really want to say it back.”

Gabriel chuckled up at him, hands roaming through Sam’s hair.

“Campbell…” he murmured, and Sam’s heart turned to stone.

Gabriel loved Campbell. Not Sam.

The timer went off for the cookies while Sam was fighting not to cry out in his distress; thankfully, Gabriel pulled away with a rueful laugh.

“The oven has a point, perhaps I can make it a little more romantic than me being stood here in my underwear at 4 in the morning…”

“I…” but the timer was still trilling, and Sam scrambled to shut it off and get the cookies out before they burned, still unable to shake off the sick feeling that had forced him from bed in the first place.

*

A couple of days passed, wherein Gabriel ran himself into the ground over work, and Sam couldn’t avoid the dual whammy of stress that was trying to look after him as well as keep his own eyes and ears peeled for the Winchesters.

Sam was yawning as he pulled back into the garage early one afternoon, the boot of his car loaded with groceries, then blinked around in surprise as he shut off the engine. The Porsche, which Gabriel had taken to work that morning, was in its usual spot, meaning he must already be home.

Sam called out, “What are you doing home so early?” as he moved through the ground floor, expecting to find Gabe in the kitchen. He wasn’t there, though. Sam left the groceries on the counter as he went in search of him. He wasn’t in his office either, but his shoes were discarded on the stairs up to the top floor and his jacket was on the floor just outside their bedroom door.

The man himself, it transpired, was curled up in bed, and what little of his face Sam could see looked chalk white.

“Gabriel?” Sam ran a hand over his sweaty forehead, and Gabriel came awake with a slurred moan. “Oh no, are you sick?”

Gabriel moaned again, screwing his eyes up even though the curtains were drawn, and the room was in darkness.

“Don’t feel good,” he grumbled up at Sam, his eyes looking vacant in his feverish face.

“What have you had? Have you taken anything? Have you drunk water?”

Gabriel wrinkled his nose and shook his head, then moaned pitifully when that apparently hurt.

“I’m going to get you something, don’t worry.”

Sam was back ten minutes later, a tray laden down with soup, crackers, water, juice, and various packets of medicine. Gabriel was asleep again, looking pale and flushed all at once. Sam settled next him and ran his hand through his damp hair again to rouse him.

Gabe managed half the glass of juice, one spoon of soup and a cracker before he slumped back against pillows, whining.

“I don’t want to be sick! I don’t have time for this!”

“I know. So, take medicine and you’ll get better.”

Gabriel let out a grumble that appeared to be of protest, but had a bit more of the soup and a half-hearted mouthful of a cracker, then took some pills with his water. He refused anything else and was asleep before Sam had even reached the door to take the tray back to the kitchen.

Sam’s boyfriend, it turned out, became something resembling a whining child when he was ill. He refused to eat or drink unless Sam glowered at him, and only took medicine when Sam begged. In the morning, his colour was a little better, though he was still stuffed-up with a head cold. His fever broke by that evening, but it took another three days before he seemed truly better.

Gabriel had petulantly sulked all through the baths Sam had made him take and then sulked even worse when Sam wouldn’t let him have any alcohol. He’d damn near had a tantrum the first night, when Sam had insisted on sleeping in his old room so he wouldn’t catch the virus himself while it ran its course.

The first sign that Gabriel was relatively back to normal was when Sam found him already up and in the shower on the fifth morning after he’d gotten sick, his singing off-key and still a little nasally.

“How are you feeling?” Sam asked, leaning against the sink to enjoy the view of Gabriel’s body through the glass.

“I can finally think straight, thank God! I hate being sick.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” Sam laughed, before he headed back into their room to strip the sheets off the bed. He was loading them in the washing machine in the laundry room by the garage when Gabriel found him and pressed himself against Sam’s body as he bent over.

“Yeah, you’re definitely feeling better, huh?”

“I’d say so.” Sam could hear the smirk in Gabriel’s voice. “Let me thank you for putting up with me. And then let me thank you again for taking such good care of me. And then a third time for being so lovely and perfect. And a fourth time for – “

“I get it, I get it,” Sam giggled, turning to kiss him, revelling in it after almost five days of no real touching. Happily, he discovered that Gabriel was still completely naked. “I’ve missed you.”

Gabriel gave Sam’s hips a squeeze then wound an arm around his waist before sliding his free hand down to cup Sam through his jeans. Sam pressed his face down into Gabe’s neck with a groan, then kissed along his bare, warm shoulder.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for you showing your appreciation. But I liked taking care of you. I could keep on taking care of you. Let me take care of you, Daddy,” Sam murmured in his ear, not missing the way Gabriel shivered in anticipation in his arms. “I want to make you feel good…”

“Baby boy, you always do,” Gabriel told him, sounding wrecked already, even though all Sam was doing was palming his sides, his hips, his ass.

“I’m sure there’s many ways I can make you feel even better, then,” Sam insisted, turning Gabriel around, and pushing him over the washing machine. He kissed a path down his neck, all the way down his spine, until he was on his knees and mouthing at his tail bone. Gabriel had spread his legs and was moaning by the time Sam nipped his way down his ass, and he damn near wailed at the first brush of lips and tongue over his hole.

“Fuck, baby…” Gabriel twisted above him, peering back over his shoulder, eyes wide.

“Is this OK?” Sam asked, stroking the backs of his thighs, and trying not to let his need for Gabriel to say yes show too obviously on his face.

“It’s so very, very OK, baby boy, Christ…”

Sam he eagerly set to work, keeping his tongue light and quick, flickering at the rim the way he loved Gabriel doing to him. Gabriel was babbling into his own arms, which he’d pillowed under him as he clutched the sides of the machine with white-knuckled fingers.

Sam retrieved lube from behind the box of washing powder and slicked his finger up before gently working it inside him. Luckily, they’d started keeping it in almost every room of the house, after far too many impromptu sessions were thwarted by staggering about looking for some. As Gabriel’s muffled wails reached Sam’s ears, he smirked to himself.

“Shit, baby boy, oh my baby boy, that’s so good, so good, fuck it’s so good!”

Gabriel was tugging at his own hair, whimpering, and he threw his head back with a howl when Sam slipped a second finger in and started crooking and scissoring them.

“Oh, fucking Christ, baby…” Gabriel’s cry turned to a scream when Sam found his sweet spot and began to pump it.

“Gonna make you feel so good, Daddy,” Sam promised him, kissing his thighs. “Gonna make you feel all better and so good, gonna take care of you everywhere…”

Gabriel was wrecked already, his hips rocking back, helpless moans filling the air. Sam grinned to himself, rather enjoying the turnabout. Gabriel so often gave to Sam, so often took him apart piece by piece, teased and tormented him until he was sobbing, desperate, thrashing, begging. Having the chance to inflict his share on Gabriel was proving to be a lot of fun.

He turned Gabriel around by the hips and let out a moan of his own at the sight of his cock, red and hard and waiting. The noise Gabriel made when Sam wrapped his lips around the head, fingers still thrusting inside him, was completely feral.

Sam loved it, loved being able to offer something, even if it was only his body, his fingers, his mouth. _This_ was real. This was him. Sam. Sam’s body. Not Campbell’s body. His. The lies didn’t matter. The identity didn’t matter. His name didn’t matter. All that he had done, the break-ins, the fraud, the scams… none of it existed in this moment.

All that mattered was Gabriel, his cries of pleasure, his fingers in Sam’s hair, the sweetness of him around Sam’s fingers, his saltiness bursting across Sam’s tongue as he came. All that mattered was the way he collapsed down onto Sam’s lap, wrung out and panting and _done_.

Sam had done that. Sam had given him that, the boneless exhaustion after the pleasure. He nuzzled into Gabriel’s hair as he felt him fight to catch his breath and closed his eyes to better let the feeling of completion wash over him too.

They were almost through March now; he’d expected Dean and John to reappear weeks ago. Maybe they wouldn’t come? Maybe they hadn’t tracked Sam after all? Maybe they’d decided to just let him go?

Sam could still hold on to this. He could still have Gabriel. He could stay. When Gabriel finally told him he loved him, Sam would say it back, _Sam_ , not Campbell. He’d say it back and mean it with every fibre of his being, then he’d tell Gabriel the truth. If Gabriel truly loved him, he’d understand. Perhaps not immediately, not after the initial shock, but eventually he would understand and forgive, and it would all be OK because they loved each other.

Sam wrapped Gabriel up tighter in his arms, buried his face in his neck, kissed along his collarbone and clung on to his delusions with all he had.


	9. Chapter 9

If God were to ever pick a human vessel, Sam thought Missouri Moseley would be the likely choice.

Sam’s first encounter with her came one cool morning in April. Sam had been heading to Gabriel’s office with a tray of doughnuts, intended as a surprise for his far too stressed-out boyfriend. He’d parked in Gabriel’s building, making use of the access pass Charlie had given him a few months back, and had headed on foot to Gabriel’s favourite bakery. He was strolling back towards the office, feeling exceptionally pleased with himself, when he almost barrelled into a woman struggling with a chalkboard sign on the pavement outside a bookstore, and damn near dropped the tray of doughnuts in the process.

She shot him a long, unimpressed look from under the rims of her glasses, then put her hands on her hips.

“I’m so sorry!” Sam gasped, humiliated at being so wrapped up in thoughts of how delighted Gabriel would be when he made it to the office.

“Put those down and help me!”

Sam hastened to obey her, lowering the doughnuts onto a pile of books – (“not _on_ the books, are you a damn idiot!”) – then carrying the box inside and putting it out of harm’s way on the counter. When he returned to the woman’s side, he was sufficiently red-faced from embarrassment.

“Now, move that onto the frame, and push the whole thing back so that no other ridiculously tall lumberjacks go tripping over it.”

Sam did as he was told with the sign, then did as he was told again when she directed him out to the back of the store and had him move a few boxes of stock out onto the cramped bookshop floor for her.

“I’m Missouri Moseley, I own this store. What’s your name?” she asked, when he was finally allowed to collect his doughnuts.

“Uh, Campbell.” No. Wrong. “Campbell Wesson, Ma’am. Sorry again for almost running into you.”

“You’re forgiven,” she eyed him, folding her arms in the process. “You got a job, Campbell?”

“Uh, no, actually. I’ve been looking…”

“You do now. Be here at 9am tomorrow.”

“Yes Ma’am!” Sam couldn’t believe his luck, and practically skipped the rest of the way to Gabriel’s office.

Gabriel was ecstatic to see Sam, and over the moon about him being offered a job. He ate two doughnuts before he even allowed the box to be taken by an intern to the break room for the rest of the staff.

Sam was just launching into the full story about Missouri when Kali stormed into Gabriel’s office, as angry and beautiful as ever.

“You’re running late! The meeting started ten minutes ago,” she bit out to Gabriel, not even bothering to look at Sam.

Gabriel sighed, kissed Sam a few times across his desk, again at the door, and for so long by the board room window that Charlie pounded on the glass with the palm of her hand.

“GABRIEL. NO. NO! BAD! STEP AWAY FROM THE PRETTY BOY!”

Gabriel groaned into Sam’s neck, then kissed it once more before he reluctantly pulled away.

“I’ll see you at home in a few hours,” Sam reminded him, as he dawdled down the hallway to the elevators, waving to Jack as he went.

“See you,” Gabriel called after him, and Sam smirked to himself as he heard him fling the door to the board room open.

“Alright, dweebs! Tell me some good news to get me over my depression at having to watch that ass walk away from me!”

The vindictive pleasure Sam felt at imagining the look that must have come over Kali’s face kept him grinning for the rest of the day.

*

Sam felt at home at the bookstore almost instantly; aside from Missouri, it was staffed by two other women, Lisa and Cassie, who Sam was pretty sure were angels in human form. He bonded especially with Lisa, and occasionally babysat her son Ben when she wanted a rare night to herself.

Sam fell in love with the store on his first day working there, and even the lows of providing customer service couldn’t detract from how amazing it felt that things were actually going right for him.

He had come to love everything in his life, from his new job, to his friends, to the simple domesticity of being with Gabriel. It wasn’t all just sex, although admittedly that was one of his favourite parts. But Sam loved going grocery shopping with him, loved the coffee dates just as much as the fancy restaurants, loved the walks, loved the game nights with their friends, loved sitting on the couch pretending to care about what they were watching on TV, when really, he just loved watching Gabriel.

There had been no sign, not even the merest hint, of Dean or Dad reappearing to try and steal Sam back.

And most of all, it was an utter revelation for Sam to feel so free, especially with Gabriel.

Nothing he said was treated as stupid, nothing he did was pointed out as not being good enough; Gabriel was calm and kind and gentle with him – he was _nice_. Gabriel _liked_ him.

Well, Gabriel loved him, Sam was sure. Not that he’d said it, yet…

After a lifetime of being snapped at, pushed around, and compared to the charming, obedient, perfect, golden Dean by the only other adult man who had truly inhabited his life, being treated the complete opposite by Gabriel was so welcome that it laid Sam bare, his walls obliterated, his heart waiting and desperate for love. And Gabriel, thankfully, seemed so willing to give it. He was so kind, and tender, and open.

They were good for each other, Sam was sure.

Still, the words, _the_ words, hadn’t been said. So, Sam disguised his need to hear them – Campbell’s need – and his desire for affection and touch and gentleness through initiating aton of sex, which… could anyone really blame him? Gabriel was fucking hot.

After an adolescence spent jerking off quickly and silently in cramped motel showers, usually with Dean banging on the door and howling at him not to use up all the hot water, it was a revelation for Sam to be able to make _noise_. In the comfort of a _bed_. To be able to _enjoy_ himself.

He was also discovering all sorts of kinks he hadn’t known he had, from working himself raw on Gabriel’s cock while his lover muttered pure filth in his ear, to being edged as Gabriel bit at his thighs and ass, Sam’s eyes were thrown wide open. It was fucking fantastic.

Hand in hand with his enjoyment of sex were the ins and outs, ups and downs of learning to navigate his first real relationship ( _based on lies, Sammy_ Bela’s voice whispered in the back of his mind. _Lies, lies, lies_ …)

Sam had never stayed in one place long enough growing up to ever have much of a relationship with anyone; he barely made friends in time before John moved them on, let alone ever got around to dating. He hadn’t had his first kiss until he was 16 (with a boy named Thomas, behind the bleachers at a school he couldn’t remember the name of in Oregon. Or was it Washington?). He hadn’t even had time to lose his virginity until he’d fled Dean and Dad a year ago, at the age of 21 (with a stranger in the bathroom of a random bar in a little town, a week into his ‘freedom’. It had taken that long for Sam’s heartbeat to tone down from its hyperdrive and for the nausea of fear to recede enough for him to smile back at the attractive, dark-haired guy who jerked his chin pointedly to the bathroom door).

Every second with Gabriel made up for all of that; every second with him fulfilled all the previously unfulfilling aspects of Sam’s miserable life. ( _Even though you’re lying?_ Bela asked him, cruel and cold as ever. _Even though you’re in love with someone who doesn’t even know your real name?_ )

Sam’s first real relationship… God, please let it be his only?

Because Gabriel was the man of his dreams, he’d got the place at Stanford he had been praying for so long, he was making his own money honestly, he had great friends…

Sam was _happy_.

No.

Campbell was happy.

Sam Winchester was as good as locked in a jail cell.

He turned it all over in his head, late one night in April when Gabriel was asleep and Sam was curled up in his arms, sweaty and sated and staring at the ceiling.

His father’s voice spat that the shit would hit the fan. Bela whispered a list of his lies. Dean called for him to come home, come back, screamed like his heart was breaking.

The real Sam Winchester would get free, John warned. It won’t last, this peace, this happiness – stuff like that was a myth, a dream, not for the Winchester men….

No.

Sam was here, now, here with Gabriel, in this amazing house, living this impossibly beautiful life. He had fought for this, worked for this, he’d earned it. He wouldn’t let Sam Winchester drive Gabriel away, wouldn’t stumble now, wouldn’t fuck it up and lose everything, not now, not _now_...

He rolled over and pressed himself to Gabriel’s bare chest, kissed him awake, then kissed his way down his body, licked and bit and sucked until Gabriel was spilling in his mouth, tugging on his hair and moaning. Then he laid his head on Gabriel’s hip, still swallowing, and tried to calm his own racing nerves. He didn’t succeed in that endeavour until Gabriel was burrowing under the covers, pushing Sam over onto his back and using his tongue to open him up.

“Campbell, baby, you gorgeous boy…”

_It’s Sam_ , he wanted to say, opened his mouth to say. The truth stretched between them tighter and thinner until it snapped, and he closed his mouth, bit his lip.

No.

It didn’t matter what Gabriel thought his name was; the fact that his Stanford admission letter, proudly displayed on the fridge, was addressed to a man that didn’t exist; that all his friends and co-workers called him Campbell, didn’t know and probably wouldn’t even like Sam Winchester.

No.

He came messy over himself as Gabriel tongue fucked his hole, fingers dipping in too, free hand stripping his cock. Sam let the pleasure turn his body slack, his brain finally calming, stilling.

_This_ was real. His name didn’t matter, his lies didn’t matter, his identity didn’t matter. All that mattered was Gabriel stroking his trembling thighs, kissing his sweaty skin, crawling up his torso to murmur in his ear how good it was, how he could wake him up like that every hour if he wanted…

Sam turned his flushed face into Gabriel’s neck, wrapped his arms around him and clung on for all he was worth. No one was allowed to ruin this, to tarnish it, to lay waste to his happiness, his love, especially not he himself.

This was his. He wasn’t letting go. He’d never let go.

*

Ultimately, the delirium of Sam’s joy couldn’t thwart the tension under his skin, that bled from his pores. He coped with it as best he could as the weeks crept by.

His favourite way to get out of his own head was to wind and rile Gabriel up into fucking him as hard and fast as he could, until Sam completely forgot his own name, or rather both of them. Gabriel’s complementary obsession for teasing him with toys until he was babbling and begging to cum, before finally fucking him until he was senseless, boneless, weightless, and satisfied, was a happy bonus.

The thing was, Sam knew that Dean was not going to let him go so easy; he knew it was a matter of time until the Winchesters tracked him down; he knew Bela would inevitably cave, her loyalty to his brother insurmountable. He was surprised she had lasted all these months.

But something would give. Something would break. Something wasn’t going to make it out alive. And Sam knew that it was going to be him.

So, he took what he could, while he could. The kissing – God, on his deathbed if his last act were to kiss Gabriel, he would die the happiest man. The orgasms, the meals together, the conversations, the arms around him at night, hands soothing him to sleep or stroking him to climax…

Sam was so in love.

Every sense in Sam’s consciousness had attuned to Gabriel. The butterflies that burst through his bloodstream when he heard Gabriel arriving home or when he kissed Sam awake in the morning; the delighted anticipation that buzzed under his skin when Gabriel smiled at him, called him his baby, ran a hand through his hair; the soft calm that turned his brain quiet and swept away any lingering fear or pain or sadness, when Gabriel laughed, hummed as he tried to cook, whistled as he folded the laundry.

Sam couldn’t tell Gabriel that he loved him first, of course. Telling him that would cross a line, would cement Campbell Wesson as a real person with real feelings. Which he wasn’t. But the tension of his lies grew and grew, settled thick on his brain, heavy on his shoulders, undertowed his every thought, every word.

He needed more and more release.

Which is why Gabriel arrived home one day at the end of April and found Sam sitting on the stairs facing the door, completely naked, wanting nothing more than to banish his guilt with the quickest, dirtiest orgasm he could get.

“Oh, hells yes, baby boy, what…” Gabriel’s mouth fell open as he properly took the sight of Sam in, and speech apparently became an issue as his eyes roved from the spreader bar Sam’s ankles were cuffed to, up to the vibrator that was tied to the underside of his cock.

Sam had hit the switch on the hitachi when he’d heard the garage door opening, so he was already gasping as the vibrations whirred away against him, his hips undulating helplessly.

Gabriel could only stare, even when Sam began to moan for him, trying to jog him into action.

“Daddy! Daddy! Please!”

“Baby… oh, God…” Gabriel’s voice was strangled, eyes glued to Sam’s cock, the head already seeping wetness.

“Daddy!” Sam sobbed again, his hips arching up helplessly as he reached out imploringly for him. Gabriel dumped his laptop bag straight onto the floor and practically threw his jacket off. Then he was there with him on the stairs, straddled Sam’s thighs and intertwining their fingers together, pressing his forehead against Sam’s.

“Oh, my gorgeous baby boy, look at you… oh, you filthy boy…”

Sam kissed him, but was whimpering into his mouth a few seconds later.

“Yeah, baby? Does it feel good?” Gabriel murmured, pulling back to kiss his cheek, his neck, his hair.

“So good! So good! So fucking good!”

Gabriel held him as he came and watched it shooting out of him. Sam’s groans of pleasure turned to wails of pain as the hitachi kept running, but Gabriel merely watched the way his oversensitive cock twitched.

“Daddy! Make it stop!” Sam tried to pull his hands free to reach for the switch, but Gabriel held him still.

“You wanted this, baby. You put yourself in this position.”

“Daddy! Please! So much, I can’t…” Sam was cut off by his own sobs as his pulsing cock kept trying to cum, his balls throbbing.

“Naughty boys should think before they act, shouldn’t they? What makes you think Daddy’s going to untie you?”

Sam couldn’t answer because his eyes were rolling back in his head as his body convulsed helplessly. He screamed as a second orgasm rolled through him, boiling and bubbling his blood, liquifying his brain.

“Oh, shit yeah, good boy! That’s it, baby, take it!” Gabriel gritted out at him through clenched teeth, fumbling to get his own cock out of his trousers. Sam was too wrecked to do anything more than whine and writhe against the hard edges of the stairs under his back.

Gabriel did take pity and turned the wand off a few seconds later, when tears of desperation at how overwhelming it was on his softening cock had started to stream down Sam’s face.

Gabriel let him catch his breath and calm down, then swiped a palm through the cum all over Sam’s torso, took his own cock in both hands and started to stroke it, his pupils blown as he gazed down at him.

Sam laid back and watched him, his ankles still bound, cock weighed down uncomfortably by the wand. But the noises Gabriel was making were music to his ears, and Sam reached up to stroke his face, his shoulders, knowing he was failing to keep the adoration out of his eyes, his voice.

“You gonna cum for me, Daddy?”

Gabriel’s eyes drifted closed and he started to fuck his fist. Sam bit his lip in anticipation.

“Cum on me, Daddy, please…”

With a broken cry, Gabriel did, and Sam cried out too in delight at feeling the warmth splattering his chest and dripping down his body.

Gabriel slumped down onto him, seeming not to care about the mess getting all over his shirt. Sam rubbed his back, fingers soothing his muscles and stroking down his spine.

“Good surprise?”

“Very very very good surprise,” Gabriel mumbled into his neck. “How the fuck are you this perfect, Campbell?”

And just like that Sam’s heart sank all over again.

*

May rolled around, along with Sam’s birthday a few days in.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” was all but howled in his ear when Gabriel accosted Sam in the shower that morning, before the older man bent over in laughter as Sam jumped, screamed, and got shampoo in his eyes.

Gabriel remained buoyant and excited all morning, though he kept pointedly, and loudly, insisting that Sam had to wait for his present. Gabriel had to head in to work in the afternoon, but Sam was dragged back to bed around midday.

“Come with me?” Gabriel offered, after they’d showered again, and he was pulling on his jacket at the door. “Amuse yourself in the city until my meeting is done, then we can grab a drink. I’ll only be an hour or two.”

That evening, Sam was just starting to get suspicious of the excited gleam in Gabriel’s eyes as they pulled into their garage. He was pleasantly full of cider and fries, but he still had the presence of mind to peer about the space, looking for the source of Gabriel’s obvious delight.

Gabriel smirked at him as they got out of the car.

“Problem?”

“You’ve done something.”

“Have I now?” Gabriel waggled his eyebrows at him but wouldn’t say anything more; Sam got his answer anyway when he stepped into the foyer and jumped about a foot in the air in shock.

“SURPRISE!”

Reeling, Sam stumbled back. Gabriel wound his arms around his waist and held him, giggling into his shoulder.

“Happy birthday, baby!”

“You planned…” Sam shook his head. He was unable to articulate anything more, his throat too stuck with gratitude, chest too tight with love. Gabriel stretched up on his toes to kiss him quickly.

Sam felt almost sucker-punched by the shock and glee, as party poppers exploded in the space between him and his friends clustered in the foyer. Orange strings stuck to his hair, and he swiped them out of his eyes, laughing, as Jo bounded up to steal the first hug.

When he glanced back, Gabriel was beaming at him and looking exceedingly proud. It took time for Sam to get around everyone who had gathered to celebrate with him – Gabriel very gallantly restrained Pam’s hands from his ass. By the time Sam had finished hugging everyone, though he pointedly avoided Bela’s piercing gaze as Ezekiel clapped his shoulder, his eyes had adequately dried.

He’d never had much of a birthday celebration before – John and Dean would try, sure, especially when Sam had been a kid. But there was never much money going spare and the fact that any presents were almost definitely stolen always took the shine off. But the hole in Sam’s chest that still missed his brother so tangibly, so acutely, was getting packed in, pasted up by Gabriel and their friends.

The ‘Kings’ crowd had brought copious amounts of food – Benny took over the rarely used grill on the patio and seamlessly balanced cooking a butterflied, marinated lamb roast with frying prawns in garlic, while slapping away Garth’s attempts at ‘helping’ and Ash’s plan to rig up some sort of contraption to make the meat cook faster. Sam was banished from his own kitchen by Jo, Pam and Kevin, the latter of whom were doing something that involved potatoes and parmesan, while Jo iced her famous whiskey and chocolate cake. Missouri bellowed commands at them from her perch on a barstool, red wine already in hand.

Bela tried to corner him by the koi pond, looking seriously pissed off, but Sam ducked away from her and took refuge in the lounge with Lisa, Cassie, Charlie, and a few others from Gabriel’s work that had come. Charlie was gleeful when she handed him her gift – a first edition Lord of the Rings, and Sam was fighting tears all over again.

Then there was music and beer and food and cake, and Bela figured out that if she stuck near Gabriel, Sam would unconsciously seek him out like a moth to flame, like gravity. It didn’t take too long for Sam to give in, and he was ducking into the garage with her when she scowled at him a little too threateningly over Gabriel’s shoulder. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, her eyes taking on a murderous quality she usually only reserved for her arguments with Dean.

“What?! What do you want me to do? What do you want me to say?” Sam rounded on her as they huddled between the Cadillac and the Porsche.

“You could not have fucked this up any worse!”

“It’s not your business! It’s not up to you what I tell him and when!”

They glared at each other.

“You should have told him months and months ago!”

“What does it matter to you?!” Sam hissed, because honestly, why did she care?

“Gabriel is a good man, and you know – _you know_ – this is going to go south because you’ve left it too late. It could have worked out, my God, it could have worked, Sam! You could have been happy!”

“Don’t call me that!”

“You think he did all this, went to all this effort, because he feels anything less than love for you? When he finds out, and we both know he will, it is going to break his heart and how can you honestly expect him to want to still be with you? Love’s not going to be enough to save you.”

“That’s my choice,” Sam told her stubbornly, hating himself before the words were even out of his mouth.

“Oh God! I truly didn’t think this of you, Sam. Dean, yes, and your father, perhaps. But not you. I never thought you could be so heartless!”

“What would you know about having a heart? You’re fucking over his brother, but you want to preach to me about honesty?! How many diamond rings have you pawned off, huh?”

“ _I_ don’t love _him_! But you couldn’t love Gabriel any less!”

Sam turned away from her, not wanting to hear any more. He was back out into the foyer and looking for Gabriel before she could call him back.

Sam found him in the kitchen, and just the sight of Gabe washing up at the sink lifted the pain and fear from his heart.

“There you are, baby! Are you having fun?” Gabriel turned to him, smiling so brightly that the breath caught in Sam’s lungs.

Sam nodded absently, not really knowing how to convey how grateful he felt in any way except crossing the room to wind his arms around Gabriel and kiss him until his own head was hazy, vision swimming.

When they pulled apart Pam let out a disappointed sigh and lowered her phone.

“Nice try, Pam,” Gabriel told her, grinning into Sam’s chest.

“One day,” she insisted. “Besides, it was still hot.”

Sam rolled his eyes at her, but she was unperturbed.

“So, what did you get your boy, Gabe?” Pam asked, as she poured herself another glass of wine. “Did you ever buy that cowboy outfit off Crowley?”

“I liked his cop outfit the best,” Jo piped up, pretending not to see the panicked look her husband shot her way from out on the patio.

“No, the devil one. That covered the most.” Kevin was a man after Sam’s own heart, though Pam sneered at the thought.

Sam let them bicker and just rolled his eyes again. Pam was like a dog with a bone though.

“Spill Gabe, I bet you got him something kinky? Can I see? Can I film him using it?”

“Yes, yes and no,” Gabriel told her cheerfully, cackling when Sam went red. “I’m kidding! It’s in our room, but it’s not sex related. We’ve got enough of that sort of stuff.”

He roared with laughter again as Pam shrieked and whacked him with a tea towel, then grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him to safety upstairs.

It was, in the end, a new laptop, sleek and shiny and slim, and Sam couldn’t quite believe it was actually his. He had never had anything brand new in his life, except for the car Gabe had gotten him for Christmas.

“I know you didn’t want me to spend too much,” Gabriel smiled at him fondly. “This was on sale, very economical! Yours looks like it’s going to give up the ghost at any second, so I thought you would definitely need one that functions in time for school.”

“Thank you,” was all Sam could croak out, as he kissed Gabriel to the sounds of the party downstairs and the sea outside the window, crashing in his ears.

*

Gabriel rarely initiated sex, mostly because Sam barely gave him the chance to and usually pounced on him the second he got home. So, when Gabriel called one afternoon in late May, his voice a growl down the line that had Sam’s cock hardening in seconds, Sam was all types of interested.

“Baby boy, are you at home or at the bookstore?”

“Home, why?”

“Good. Get naked and get yourself ready for me, right now. I want you in bed with that sweet ass slick and open when I get through the door, do you understand me? Daddy’s had the worst fucking day and he’s not in the mood for disobedience…”

“OK, Daddy,” Sam gasped back, jumping up from the couch and already starting on his belt as he made his way to the stairs. “Anything you say. Anything you want.”

“Good boy. I’ll be home in ten minutes. Be on the bed with your pretty ass up in the air, your hole wet and ready for Daddy’s cock, or there will be consequences.”

But Gabriel arriving to find Sam whimpering into the sheets as he stretched himself out with two fingers wasn’t good enough, apparently.

“I said be ready,” Gabriel snarled as he pulled Sam’s fingers free, not ungently. The slap to his ass wasn’t quite so careful. “How is this ready! Two fingers?! You trying to insult me?”

“No! Of course not, Daddy!” Sam gasped as his bare ass was given three more slaps in quick succession, as Gabriel moved to kneel behind him on the bed.

“Naughty. Boy. Naughty. Little. Boy. Daddy’s. Naughty. Baby. Boy.”

Each word was punctuated by a smack, one of Gabriel’s arms wrapped around his waist from underneath to hold him still. Gabriel spanked him until his ass was glowing pink and hot. Sam cried out with each slap, but his cock was so hard from it that every jolt made it throb and drip precum onto the sheets.

Once Sam was a gasping wreck, Gabriel turned him over, and moved up the bed until he was leaning on the headboard. Then he reached out for Sam, settled him between his spread legs so his back was resting on Gabriel’s chest. He waited for Sam’s breathing to calm before he slid his hands down his abdomen and picked up his hard, leaking cock, rubbing it gently.

“Look at that filthy, drippy cock… look how wet it is for Daddy… it looks so tasty, baby… but you know what happens when baby boys are naughty and messy, don’t you?” Gabriel’s murmur was low in his ear.

“No, please…” Sam whined, not sure he could take the punishment. He held his safe word in his mind, knowing Gabriel would stop the second he used it; all his nerves were on fire, his ass was still stinging, and he pulled in some deep, shaky breaths to calm himself. He felt perfectly safe, and he so desperately wanted to be good, to give Gabriel what he was needing.

“Tell Daddy what happens to messy boys with naughty wet cocks? You were a bad boy, baby, and you disobeyed your Daddy. So now you have to face the consequences.”

Sam sobbed out a broken noise, turning his face into Gabriel’s chest.

“What happens to naughty boys?”

“Edging…”

“That’s right, good boy,” as soon as he whispered his defeated answer, Gabriel was stroking fingertips over his swollen, red cockhead and Sam howled.

The sensation was sweet torture, and he loved and hated it in equal measure; he thrashed in Gabriel’s arms as he tried to escape, while simultaneously trying to buck his hips up for more.

“Don’t fight, don’t fight me, baby, shhh shhh,” Gabriel soothed, kissing his temple as he slowed his ministrations until he was just lightly holding the sensitive flesh.

Sam whimpered helplessly, and Gabriel pressed another kiss to the feverish skin of his cheek.

“Don’t fight, baby. Just take it. Take it for Daddy like the good little boy I know you are. Such a good baby boy for your Daddy, aren’t you?”

Sam whined again as the fingers started their torment once more, but he clenched his hands around Gabriel’s forearm to have something to hold onto, his thighs shaking from fighting his instinct to close his legs to try to dislodge Gabriel’s hand.

Gabriel kept stopping to soothe him when his trembling got too violent and his cries got too desperate, until Sam was panting and shuddering in his arms.

“You’re doing so well, baby. But we’re just getting you warmed up, don’t you know? I want you to relax for me now, OK?”

By the time Sam had calmed down, his jutting cock bobbing along with his pulse, Gabriel was tying his wrists to the headboard and appraising him, a pleased smirk on his face, his eyes dancing.

Sam’s chest heaved with how deep he was breathing trying to keep under control, but his physical state couldn’t be clearer. His cock twitched in anticipation as Gabriel slid both hands up the insides of his thighs and he moaned at how good it felt.

Gabriel laughed, eyes crinkling in mirth before they suddenly turned hard, and hands clenched on Sam’s hipbones.

“Did you think I wouldn’t see right through your little game, baby? Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out? Well now you’re trapped and right where I want you, all mine to do whatever I want with. And you’ve been a very bad boy, haven’t you, lying to your Daddy?”

“What do you mean?” Sam gasped, trying not to panic at the words, as Gabriel let his hands travel up over his abs. Once he reached Sam’s chest he began to play with his nipples, his favourite thing, smirk still in place.

“Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?” Gabriel repeated, ducking his head to replace his fingers with his mouth. He sucked one nipple hard until Sam was gasping, then let his tongue flicker over it.

“F-figure wh-what out?” Sam mewled, writhing helplessly against his bonds. His fogged-up brain wanted to panic that Gabriel knew about his lies, his false identity, who he truly was, but the rest of him couldn’t seem to catch up.

“That you wanted this,” was Gabriel’s pointed response. “You wanted to be punished. You wanted it, didn’t you? I warned you there’d be consequences; I told you what I wanted you to do. You had plenty of time to get ready for me. You messed up on purpose because you wanted this to happen, isn’t that right?”

Relief flooded Sam’s senses, even as he whined, “No, Daddy!”

“Don’t lie to me, baby boy.”

“I’m not!”

“You mean to try and tell me you don’t love this? You don’t love being bound up and used like Daddy’s little fuck toy?” Gabriel asked, his hands sliding down to wrap around Sam’s cock.

“Of course I do,” Sam murmured back. “I love it so much, love everything you do to me. But I didn’t mean to disobey. I didn’t mean to be bad. I was trying to be good, to be ready!”

Gabriel softened a little, a glimmer of his usual affection back in his eyes as he leaned up to kiss Sam possessively.

“OK, baby boy. Daddy understands.”

“I really meant to be ready for you, like you wanted. I did!”

“I believe you, gorgeous. But you weren’t and you still need to be punished. OK?”

Sam nodded before he emitted a small whine; Gabriel’s fingers were back to twiddling his nipples.

“Such a pretty boy for me. Such pretty nipples. You know how much Daddy likes playing with them, huh, baby?”

“Mmm, yeah, I love it. Feels so good, you make them feel so good.”

“That’s right; they get so stiff for me, don’t they?”

“Uh-huh,” Sam moaned, trying to arch his chest up further for more.

“But not as stiff as this…” Gabriel gave his cock another squeeze and Sam moaned. He fucking loved it when Gabriel was in this mood, on the fine line between his usual playful, and the hard, dominant edge that came out less often.

Sam wasn’t sure what had flicked Gabriel’s switch today, something at work or with his family, maybe, but he always trusted him, had never once felt unsafe.

“You take such good care of me,” Sam whispered to him, and Gabriel looked up, a little surprised from where he’d been lapping at the rim of his hole.

“Always. I’ll always take care of you.”

When Gabriel finally pushed inside, after another half an hour of fondling and teasing, they both cried out with the pleasure. Sam’s cock was a thick, hot rod on his belly, and his balls were aching from how much attention Gabriel had paid them with his tongue and fingers.

“Fuck,” Gabriel moaned as his cock slid in. “You feel so sweet around me, gorgeous.”

“Gonna fuck me, Daddy?” Sam panted, unable to even open his eyes because the haze of pleasure was so strong. Sweat was rolling off him, his lungs heaving for oxygen.

“Oh, you have no idea…”

Sam yelled out once Gabriel bottomed out inside him; his lover held still for one long moment that seemed to stretch on and on before he pulled out almost completely, then shoved in again.

Sam cried out with every thrust, knowing his delight was evident on his face.

“You’re so gorgeous, baby. You look so good for your Daddy,” Gabriel grunted as he sunk in deep once more, right up against his prostate, then began to circle his hips.

Sam wailed for him, getting closer and closer to orgasm with every shift and press of Gabriel’s cock.

“Daddy!” Sam called urgently, and Gabriel smirked at the flush that had spread over his chest, and at the mess Sam’s untouched cock was leaving on his belly.

“Daddy, I think I’m gonna… I think I’m gonna…”

“You gonna cum, baby? Gonna cum like this? Open your eyes, such a good boy for me…”

“Yeah…” Sam’s eyes were feverishly bright, and completely unfocused, Gabriel just a blur over him.

“Right now?”

“Yeah…”

“Right now, all for me?”

“Ye-AHHHH” Sam’s cry of delight turned into a scream as Gabriel grabbed his balls and pulled them away from his body, wrapping his fingers tightly around them.

“I don’t think so, baby boy!”

Sam screamed and thrashed, sobbing as his confused body shuddered away from the brink of orgasm.

“Nooooo! Whyyyy?! Daddyyyy!”

Gabriel didn’t answer, just let Sam go and went back to thrusting. He filled Sam’s ass with his climax, eventually, but left his cock completely ignored. He admired the way some of his cum leaked out of Sam’s hole as he slid out, then chuckled when Sam pouted at him, whining helplessly.

“I know, baby. Don’t worry. Daddy’s nowhere near finished with you.”

Gabriel helped him drink from a bottle of water, then ran his hands all over Sam’s body, stroking his taut muscles and sweaty skin. He edged Sam once more, jacking his cock fast and loose with a lube-slick hand, pulling away at the last minute, clearly loving the way Sam thrashed about. He teased Sam’s hole with a vibrator too, until it was pliant and tingling, then held the toy to Sam’s balls as he pressed his fingers back into the wet mess of his own cum inside him, so he could rub Sam’s sweet spot until he shuddered.

“Daddy,” Sam whispered, completely delirious, as Gabriel dropped the vibrator so he could wrap his free hand around Sam’s begging cock once more.

“Yeah, baby boy, I know. It’s OK. I’m gonna get you there.”

“Daddy…” Sam said again, tongue too thick, body wriggling helplessly.

“It’s OK, baby. Gonna get you there right now. I won’t stop. You’re allowed to cum now, gorgeous.”

“Daddy… I…”

“Cum, baby. I promise you can cum now.”

“Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!”

“Cum, baby, cum!”

“DADDY! DADDY! OH GOD! OH FUCK!” It was so good, building up inside him, sweeter and sweeter, closer and closer…

“Yeah, that’s it, all for me,” Gabriel cooed to him, his voice sounding far away.

“DADDY! DADDY! DADDY!” Sam screamed as he finally came, wailing at how good it felt. Gabriel worked him through it, pumping his fingers inside him relentlessly at the same time as he gave Sam’s cock long, hard strokes until he’d wrung out every last drop.

Sam drifted in a haze of bliss, vaguely aware of a washcloth cleaning up the worst of his cum and sweat, then of the water bottle again being pressed to his lips. He drank until it was empty, then stretched out his arms once Gabriel unbound them.

He felt fuzzy and dizzy, too hazy and exhausted to do much more than stumble in Gabriel’s wake to the bathroom, where a warm bath was run for him and Gabriel washed his tired, sated body.

Then bed, in his former bedroom because their bedspread was covered in his mess. Sam fell onto it and was asleep before Gabriel had even finished tucking the blankets around his shoulders.


	10. Chapter 10

As wrapped up in each other as they were, Sam and Gabriel both completely forgot about the charity gala event they were supposed to attend at the Palace of Fine Arts in June until the night before.

Luckily, Sam had a tux now – he’d needed one for a fancy dinner Kali and Baldur had thrown at their mansion about a month back, which had mostly seemed to Sam like an excuse to show off their wealth. It hadn’t even been damaged from when Sam had worn it, he discovered with relief, when he pulled it on. That was lucky too – Gabriel had damn near ripped it off him once they’d gotten home.

Gabriel was still whining that he didn’t want to go to the event even as he handed the Ferrari’s keys to the valet and they were heading inside the venue, his hand tight in Sam’s.

“It won’t be as bad as you think,” Sam tried to comfort him, as they were offered glasses of champagne by a passing waiter. Gabriel drank three in quick succession, not once loosening his grip on Sam’s fingers.

“It will,” was the petulant response. “I hate these things.”

“It’s for charity.”

“That’s the _only_ reason I’m here. Plus, I really wanted to see you in that tux again.”

Sam rolled his eyes and ignored Gabriel’s pointed smirk in favour of peering around the room. The space was amazing; it truly looked like a palace, regal and high-class. The guests matched the decor in terms of beauty, and Sam took a long gulp of his champagne as he appraised them. He was completely in character by the time he’d swallowed.

Gabriel wouldn’t know that Sam had done this a million times; swanned into a room he certainly didn’t belong in, rubbed shoulders with people that wouldn’t look at him twice under normal circumstances. Sam and Dean had practically cut their teeth on assuming airs and graces not theirs; they had been raised in rooms like these, watching their father, learning how to charm while swiping a wallet from a pocket, how to distract while slipping off a necklace, earrings, an entire parure, how to exploit and manipulate by goading people into revealing secrets in anger, trapping them in lies or tricking them into complacency.

John had been proficient at procuring invitations to these sorts of galas and events, the things that rich people flocked to attend in order to try and pretend that they gave a damn about anyone except themselves. Granted, Sam’s typical role had been look-out; to watch the comings and goings of security guards, suspicious husbands, jealous wives, nosy event planners, tired waiters and valets – anyone who might spot Dean or dad and thwart their plans. Sam watched, the Impala’s keys ready in his pocket, his brother in his line of sight to drop the signal to.

Tonight, habit had him keeping an eye out for Dean even though he wasn’t here. He kept his fingers tangled in Gabriel’s, his champagne glass tight in his free hand – no need to reach for keys to a car he didn’t have, no need to watch the backs of men who didn’t need him, who he didn’t need, not anymore.

Gabriel – currently eyeing Sam’s ass with a smirk of appreciation – was all that mattered now. To do him his due, he mostly stopped sulking when the waiters started mixing their champagne trays with food, and Charlie appeared not long after to huff at her boss about his attitude.

Sam wound up doing most of the talking to anyone that approached them, introducing himself and complimenting outfits, jewellery, reputations, business ventures. He surprised Gabriel with the breadth of topics he chattered away with the various sycophants about, from the economy to basketball to the best schools in the area, if the wide-eyed looks Sam was getting from his boyfriend were any indication.

Sam was actually enjoying a conversation with two of Gabriel’s investors about artificial intelligence, when Kali appeared in the fringe of his vision, stunning in a blue Zuhair Murad gown that looked as though it was made purely from cloud vapours. With Sam distracted, she reached for Gabriel, her hands lingering too long on his shoulders, unnecessarily at his waist as she greeted him.

Her husband Baldur stood behind her, ignored in favour of Kali damn near groping Gabriel for all and sundry to see. Sam took pity and turned to Baldur, angling his body to invite him into his conversation with Inias and Hester. Baldur took the opportunity with a grateful smile and Sam pointedly managed to keep his back to Kali while introducing the man to the couple.

He’d forgotten how _fun_ it was to work a crowd like this.

Sam felt Gabriel’s fingers slide across his lower back and threw him a quick look over his shoulder, but Gabriel wasn’t actually looking at him and was talking with Charlie about their stocks. He had at least managed to disentangle himself from Kali.

Unfortunately, Sam caught her eye then and they couldn’t pretend to ignore each other any longer.

“Kali, you look lovely.”

“Campbell! I didn’t even see you there!” Kali stepped forward and brushed a kiss to his cheek. “Are you working here tonight? That’s what you do, don’t you? You’re a waiter?”

“I used to be,” Sam smiled, not giving her an inch. “At a strip club, if you recall.”

“Certainly. How… industrious of you,” her smile would cut, if it could.

“Oh, I learned loads, sure,” Sam winked at Gabriel, who grinned back at him.

Ignoring her pinched expression, Sam stepped a little closer to Kali, so he could murmur to her conspiratorially over the sound of Charlie stifling her giggling behind her hands.

“In fact, you don’t mind covering for us, do you? If anyone comes by asking for Gabriel? I saw an empty corridor earlier, and we’re overdue a little private time, if you catch my drift.”

Kali went white, then red, as Sam tugged Gabriel away from the group and across the marble floor.

“Baby!” Gabriel was still laughing when Sam pulled him down the corridor he’d noticed, trying doors at random until he found one that was unlocked, full of spare chairs and empty display cases.

“Baby, what on earth are you – ?” Sam kissed Gabriel silent, backed him into the door as he pressed it shut behind them.

“I need you to fuck me,” Sam hissed against Gabriel’s throat before he kissed his way up his neck to his ear. “I need you, now.”

“Oh, fuck,” he felt Gabriel sag against him as his knees went weak. “Baby, I am so on-board, believe me, but I really don’t think…”

“Fuck me, please?” Sam begged.

Gabriel groaned a little, looking hesitant, before he reached a decision and started on the buttons of Sam’s jacket. Sam let him, and once both their jackets were discarded, he pulled Gabriel away from the door so that he could wedge a chair under the handle.

“We’re all alone, Kali’s keeping guard,” he reported as he turned back to his boyfriend, who was busy divesting himself of his shirt.

“She agreed to that, did she?” Gabriel snorted, eyes on Sam’s belt.

“She didn’t have much of a choice.”

“And neither do I, apparently,” Gabriel laughed into Sam’s mouth when he kissed him, a sound that turned into a surprised yelp when Sam shoved him down onto a chair.

“I’m going to ride you,” Sam informed him, as he dropped to his knees to get Gabriel’s trousers out of the way.

He was as good as his word – five minutes later found him scrambling up onto Gabriel’s lap, hissing as he pulled his fingers free of himself.

“You planned for this?” Gabriel groaned at him, as Sam wiped his lube-slick fingers a bit cleaner on a tissue from his pocket. Sam just smirked as he rolled the condom he’d also produced down onto Gabriel’s cock, chucking the foil packet over his shoulder.

“Yeah, ah, shit, yes…” Sam whimpered, when he was properly over Gabriel’s lap and lowering himself down onto him, noises of delight falling from his throat at the stretch.

“Oh, baby, that’s so good, oh fuck,” Gabriel let his forehead drop onto Sam’s chest as began to rock, lifting up into his body before dropping back down, little by little, inch by inch.

It was too slow, too gentle, so Sam planted his hands firmly on Gabriel’s shoulders to hold him still and took over the movements, working himself down with increasing speed. It felt so good, so right, he didn’t want it to end.

They were being far too loud, from Sam’s grunts to Gabriel’s gasping, but Sam didn’t care. Because Gabriel was staring at him, eyes revering and hazy, and just that look, that sweet awe, had him moving faster.

“Fuck, I love you in me, feel so good in me…”

Gabriel didn’t answer, just dropped his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, lips parting as he panted for breath, hands clutching at Sam’s hips through his already sweat-damp shirt. His back arched as he came, and Sam had to seal a palm over his mouth to muffle his cry.

Sam took great joy in hissing, “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me, Daddy, fuck me, Daddy,” in Gabriel’s ear as he watched him cum, with a glee that felt almost vindictive. His neck got bitten in response, and he grunted at the sensation.

He kept working himself down on Gabriel’s cock even as it softened, even as Gabriel started to moan at the sensitivity. Sam would have kept going, mindless and desperate, had Gabriel not pushed him down onto the floor. He loomed over Sam with a hard, intense expression on his face. Then he was pushing his fingers inside, searching for the place where Sam needed him the most.

Once Gabriel found it, he smirked, and only then did he let his free hand start to rub Sam’s cock.

“This what you wanted, baby? Got yourself so horny that you wanted to be fucked in a back room? Couldn’t wait till we got home, could you? You had to have it like this, didn’t you? Well, I’m going to give it to you, baby. Gonna give you exactly what you asked for, gonna fucking turn you inside out...”

“You always do,” Sam moaned back, toes curling in his stupidly stiff dress-shoes as those insistent fingers kept working him. “Need it so badly.”

“Daddy’s got you, baby,” was whispered into his hair, and Sam’s eyes fluttered shut as his body started to spasm. Gabriel’s mouth wrapped around his cock to swallow him down as he came.

Gabriel was smiling when Sam finally opened his eyes, chuckling a little as he gazed at him.

“Next time take your suit off properly. It costs too much to get ruined every time you wear it, even in such a fun way.”

Sam was too sleepy and pliant to answer, though he gave in to the prodding to stagger to his feet and get his trousers back up, remembering at the last minute to recover the empty condom and lube packets from the floor.

Gabriel ducked off to the bathroom before they left, but Sam couldn’t resist wandering back to Kali, knowing he looked a complete wreck. He didn’t bother to put his jacket back on and left his bowtie undone too; his hair felt like a haphazard mess and he could tell from Charlie’s wide-eyed gaze that the marks from Gabriel’s mouth were already forming on his neck.

Sam winked at Kali and thanked her, then downed another glass of champagne and retrieved his and Gabriel’s phones from where they’d stashed them in Charlie’s purse. He bid them all a pointed goodnight when Gabriel reappeared at the door, waiting, and didn’t stop giggling the whole drive home.

*

Sam really thought life couldn’t get any more perfect, knew he couldn’t love Gabriel any more completely, and believed he’d escaped his family at last.

Gabriel, for some unfathomable reason, just seemed to worship him, and Sam couldn’t help but respond to the tender care, the lavished praise, the kindness. From seeking Sam out for a kiss the moment he came home, to calling him baby boy even as he fucked him ruthless and deep, to cradling him, stroking his hair, his skin, with gentle fingers as Sam sank into sated sleep, Gabriel was constantly loving towards him. Sam preened at the attention, let himself bask in it, let it build up his self-esteem until the negativity John and his upbringing had enforced were effectively silenced.

And Sam felt almost utterly addicted in return; a deep, visceral need to be with Gabriel constantly seemed to thrum through him. He tried not to let it rule him, but there were times when he couldn’t resist, had to sink to his knees in supplication, had to beg to be touched, had to whine until he was so soundly kissed that nothing else existed. The familiarity of Gabriel was comforting and exciting all at once. The feel of his hands upon Sam’s body, be they doing something innocent, or something far from innocent, were heavenly. His mouth was sinfully good, but Sam’s favourite part of his anatomy, naturally, he thought, was his cock. Decadent and thick, Sam loved nothing more than getting his mouth and hands on it while it was soft, the saltiness blooming on his tongue as his fingers worked it until it was achingly hard. Then Sam would take in as much as he could, loving the way it tasted, the weight. It was comforting, to let himself go mindless, to focus solely on providing pleasure.

The truth was that Sam had come to need Gabriel completely, to rely on him for comfort and pleasure, for happiness.

Realisation of that coincided with the Winchesters coming for him.

As it was, Sam wasn’t surprised when they found him. They were always going to find him. He’d been running on borrowed time, and now that time was well and truly up.

*

Sam locked up the bookstore one evening in mid-July, turning as he tucked the keys into his pocket, and there they both were, leaning against the Impala. Twin leather jackets, twin poses, arms folded, ankles crossed. Dean scowling, John sombre, side by side, waiting.

Sam stopped dead in his tracks, fingers clenching on the store keys – weirdly, his first instinct was to throw them in Dean’s face to distract him and try to run.

Breathing deep, he squared his shoulders instead, and stared them down. This was his home, his life, his city, his choice. They wouldn’t take him, couldn’t have him, they wouldn’t ruin this, they _wouldn’t_ because he loved them, somehow, still, but he loved Gabriel more.

“How did you find me?” he spat; Dean snarled back at him, already defensive and not understanding, _never_ understanding.

“You knew we would!” was scoffed in his face, then John laid his hand on his eldest son’s shoulder and Dean backed down immediately, like the good little obedient soldier he would always be.

“I don’t want you here. There’s nothing to say. You have no reason to be here,” Sam tried to keep his voice from shaking, still didn’t know what he was feeling. Anger? Pain? Disgust? Fear?

“We just wanted to check up on you, to see that you were doing OK,” John told him, but Sam didn’t trust him. Never had and never would.

“Well, I’m fine. Or I was, up until right now. So, you can leave. And feel free to never come back.”

“Sam!” His dad tried to waylay him, but Sam was whirling into his face, toe to toe with him before anyone could blink.

“Do _not_ call me that!” Sam’s eyes darted about on their own accord even as he spat the words. He looked up to Missouri’s apartment window above the shop, then down the sidewalk where Cassie had disappeared just a few minutes ago. “Don’t call me that here! I’m not…”

“You’re using an alias?” his father asked, tone dropping to match Sam’s frantic hiss, while Dean sulked in the background at being left out. “Why? You working a game?”

“No, I just… It’s not your business what I’m doing! How did you track me down?”

“We didn’t. Not intentionally.”

Sam shook his head, not falling for the lie.

“Was it Bela?” She’d been on Sam’s case incessantly recently, having apparently decided she knew what was best for him and not caring how badly it hurt him when she kept harping on about it.

Dean’s guilty eyes said it all, but what surprised Sam the most was that John was looking at Dean too, his face confused.

“I _might_ have gotten a lead on a big sting, but it’s a family we’ve struck before, so I wanted to scope it out before I told you and we got tied up in anything!” Dean was petulant, knew he’d done wrong by not being honest with his father.

“What family?” Sam whispered, even though he already knew.

“What lead?!” John barked, dragging Dean closer by his jacket so they could all argue in a quieter huddle by the Impala.

“It was Bela, wasn’t it?” Sam asked, and Dean wouldn’t look at him so of course it was.

“She’s been running a long game on some actor, got herself a great big fuck-off ring, a Merc, all sorts of the fancy shit she likes. She’s just pulled the plug and run off in the night to Greenland or Iceland or wherever, you know how she does... She _may_ have thrown me a bone…”

“What family?!” John looked furious.

“The… Look, it’s the Novak family, OK!” Dean bit back, and Sam’s heart lodged thick in his throat.

“You idiot!” John snarled, shaking him by his collar a little. “Why didn’t you tell me! I stung the Novak’s years ago. Is that where you went this morning?”

“Not this one! This is a different guy!”

There was only one Novak in San Francisco. Sam’s vision swam.

“Yeah! And there’s no way Gabriel Novak won’t remember me, you idiot!” Dad was hissing at Dean. “Pull your head out of your ass! _If_ we play this, we have to be very careful!”

“No! You can’t!” Sam stared between them in horror. “You’re _not_ scamming Gabriel Novak! But what do you mean you’ve done over the family _before_? When?!”

“It was years ago, one of the Novak sons, the politician, Raphael. I… took money in return for manipulating his campaign,” John eyed him. “You don’t remember? You were… 16? Maybe 15?”

Sam had been too focused on his education and trying to get good grades back then – he hadn’t paid attention to anything John did if he could help it.

“Look,” he backed away from them both. “Pull the plug, OK. Just leave town, now. Go! Stay away from Gabriel. And stay the fuck away from me.”

“You know him? How do you know him, Sammy?” Dean’s eyes were green slits, and Sam didn’t dare look at John because he knew he’d already figured it out.

“Stay away from us!”

“Scamming Gabriel Novak is a mistake, son. He’s a very influential and powerful man. I wouldn’t advise –”

“I’M NOT FUCKING SCAMMING HIM! I LOVE HIM!” Sam was screaming at them before he could stop himself, god dammit why couldn’t he ever stop himself?

“There is no game here, OK! No con! I am out of that bullshit excuse for a life and I want nothing more to do with either of you! I’m not running a game on Gabriel, and I won’t let _you_! Leave, and don’t you ever come near us again!”

Then he was in his Dodge, locking the doors for good measure, and getting away from the kerb as fast as traffic would allow.

They didn’t seem to follow him, but Sam took every back road he could think of to get home, just in case.

Sam was a wreck all night, barely able to give any attention to Gabriel. He accepted a kiss when Gabriel got home later and found Sam cobbling together dinner in the kitchen. He couldn’t bring himself to say much as they ate, though luckily Gabriel was caught up in recounting a story of Charlie schooling a dickwad potential investor who thought he could mansplain her own tech to her – it had probably been Dean in disguise.

“It was brilliant! He recommended she read her own article! That she _wrote_! I guess he thought the name ‘Charlie’ had to belong to a man!”

Sam smiled weakly when he noticed Gabriel staring openly at him from across the patio dining table, having clearly anticipated more of a reaction.

“You OK, baby? I expected at least a rant about how men are the worst and society should become a matriarchy. Which is a notion I fully endorse, by the way.”

“I’m fine,” Sam lied to him. Always lying, never not lying. “Headache. Long day at the store.”

“Oh no! You should have said sooner. Take some Tylenol and get to bed if you want. I can clean up the kitchen.”

“Can you? Unsupervised?” Sam managed another smile and gave Gabriel a quick kiss as they stood and headed inside.

“Skadi can make sure I do it right!” Gabriel grinned over his shoulder at him. A light breeze that followed them through the door ruffled at his hair as their dog bounced about their feet.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s an expert. Though it doesn’t take much to be more knowledgeable about it than you,” Sam chuckled, pressing another kiss to the back of Gabriel’s neck as he headed for the stairs. He was just passing the koi pond when the doorbell rang.

Sam’s heart plummeted into his stomach, but there was nothing he could do as Gabriel waved for him to continue upstairs while he crossed to the front door.

“I got it, baby boy, go on to bed.”

Sam gazed helplessly at the back of Gabriel’s head, the way the light reflected the gold in his hair, the line of his back under his blue shirt, and let his eyes drink their fill, tried to commit him completely to memory.

Because as soon as Gabriel opened the door, everything would be ruined.

Dean’s angry eyes flicked first up to Sam, instinct and habit letting him spot his little brother immediately. Then his smile, charming and fake, was pasted on and he was extending a hand to Gabriel.

“We meet again, Mr. Novak. I’m Sam’s brother, Dean.”

Sam closed his eyes as the damaging words washed over him; he couldn’t see Gabriel’s face, but the confusion must have been evident, since Dean’s smile faded quickly. Then John stepped forward and took up Gabriel’s hand in turn.

“John Winchester. Sam’s father.”

“Funny, you said your last name was Araya this morning,” Gabriel was still staring at Dean. “And who might Sam be? Wait. Did you say Winchester?”

Gabriel was too confused to put it together yet, and Sam stared at his father and brother, willing them to comprehend, to leave him with some way out, some lifeline by which to save himself, to save Gabriel.

John’s eyes moved up to his younger son. The incredulity on Dean’s face, his twisted eyebrows, and the way his mouth dropped open, spoke volumes. They’d hadn’t realised Gabriel didn’t know, hadn’t thought that Sam’s use of a false identity would extend to his relationship too.

Then Gabriel got it, and Sam watched his shoulders go tense and his neck stiffen, as he slowly turned to face him too.

“Baby?”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispered, his blood running cold at the hurt on Gabriel’s face, the betrayal in his eyes.

“ _Winchester_?”

“I… I don’t…”

“That’s right,” John spoke up gruffly. “Our paths have crossed before, Gabriel.”

“Yeah, when you almost ruined my brother’s career!”

“I’m not proud of that, but I’m not here because of it. I just wanted to see my son.”

“Son…” Gabriel was backing away from all of them like a frightened animal, and Skadi started to growl at she backed up with him, keeping her body between her dad and the men at the door. “Oh, God, no. Oh my God.”

“Gabriel,” Sam whined, half falling back down the stairs to get to him. “No, I swear, I’m not… I didn’t… this isn’t that! This isn’t because of them! I’m not that person! I’m not theirs anymore!”

Gabriel was staring at him, eyes wide in horror even as his lip curled in disgust. When Sam reached out to touch him, Gabriel immediately smacked his hands away.

“Gabriel… I’m so sorry. I’ve been lying and I’m sorry! No, my name’s not Campbell Wesson. There is no Campbell Wesson. But the only reason I had to go by an alias was because of my fucking – _fucking family_ – “ Sam whirled to scream the words at them, before he tried to touch Gabriel again, who continued to evade him. “The life I lived before you is not who I am anymore, I swear! I haven’t done anything like that since I came to San Francisco. I promise! I am _not_ using you!”

“You expect me to believe that!” Gabriel clutched at his hair in agitation, and Skadi turned on Sam when he got too close, her growl a threat.

“My son had nothing to do with what I did to your family, to your brother,” John didn’t sound remorseful, just matter of fact. “He was just a kid back then; he knew nothing about it.”

“ _He_ did!” Gabriel waved an accusatory hand at Dean, his gold eyes not leaving Sam. “You think I don’t remember! I knew you looked familiar! And then there was that bullshit today, you showing up at my offices! What sort of game was that?!”

Dean ducked his head, but John was calm, commanding.

“Dean didn’t have my permission to do that. Look, Gabriel, this isn’t on Sam, it’s on me. My sons have never had any choice in the life they led; I never allowed it. Once he was old enough to know better, to realise what I’ve done and see the sort of man I am and had raised him to be, Sam ran for the hills the first chance he got. And he wound up here. With you. He’s not playing you. He didn’t know anything about what I’d done to Raphael. He’s out of that life.”

“You expect me to believe a single fucking thing that comes out of any of your mouths?!”

“Gabriel, please,” Sam sobbed, tears in his eyes because he knew it was over and there was nothing that he could say to fix it. He had done this. He had caused this pain, all him, all on his own. “Please you have to believe me. Please don’t do this. I lied, yes, to you, to everyone, about who I was, about my name, but that’s _all_. It’s just a name!”

“Sam, I’m sorry,” John told him gruffly. “I only came to try to help. We’ll leave. Dean…”

Dean was still staring from Sam to Gabriel, expression something between confused, sad, and embarrassed.

Sam knew his brother loved him more than anything – that he was perhaps the only thing that Dean had ever, could ever and would ever love. But Dean was always too fierce, too rough, too good at hurting.

And the person he was best at hurting, that he hurt the most, the fastest, the easiest, was always Sam. God only knew how many times, how badly, how deeply, how completely, Dean had hurt his brother in the past.

This was all of them, magnified by thousands.

“How could you do this to me?” Sam whimpered to him, and Dean’s eyes snapped to him, widening in guilt. “How could you? I begged you to stay away. I told you to leave us alone, to leave _me_ alone… why couldn’t you just let me go?”

“There is no letting go! There is no ‘out’! We’re your family! Not him!” Dean yelled, but John clamped an arm around his shoulders and damn near threw him out the front door.

“I’m sorry,” John told his youngest son one last time, not that Sam could look at him, then the door clicked shut and the Winchester men were gone.

“Get your shit and fuck off after them. Get out of my house,” Gabriel’s voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wet; he was ice-white and trembling. And worst of all, he was staring at Sam like he was a stranger to him.

“No! You _promised_ you’d never do that! You swore you’d never kick me out!”

“I made a promise to Campbell. You’re not him. You’re no one.”

“Gabriel, no, please. I love you! I love you! I lo –”

“Don’t!” Gabriel scrubbed at his eyes with his hands, backing up even further against the living room wall. “Just don’t! You don’t love me! You lied to me! Not just a little white lie, but a really big fucking awful lie! You lied to me about your entire identity! It’s been months! You… what, you were in on this with Crowley? Learned who I was? Targeted me from the beginning, like Patrick? Or have you and your family been hunting mine since Raphael’s campaign, waiting to strike again after all these years? Wasn’t once enough?”

“No! It’s all just coincidence! I haven’t been conning you! I didn’t know anything about what my dad and Dean did to your brother! I didn’t know! I didn’t know!” Sam reached out blindly through his tears, but Gabriel pushed his hands back.

“Bullshit! You haven’t been doing anything _but_ con me! Why else would you hide who you were?!”

“Because Sam Winchester was a criminal! And I didn’t want to be him anymore! I never wanted to be him! All I wanted was to be free, to go to Stanford, to be normal! But now all I want is you! It doesn’t matter what my name is, surely? It’s just a name, it’s nothing! I love you like I’ve never loved anything, Gabriel, please, _please_ believe me! I just wanted a normal life!”

But Gabriel was shaking his head, wouldn’t look at him anymore.

“Thank fuck I don’t love you, is all I have to say. Thank fuck I didn’t let myself fall in love. Don’t get me wrong, you seemed like a real sweetheart, and that ass is just heaven. But love?” Gabriel sneered at Sam like he was muck under his shoe.

“You don’t mean that! You were going to say it… in the kitchen, you were going to say it!”

“And yet, have I? Honestly, baby, get it through your head. I could have loved you. But thank God I didn’t and thank God I never will. Now. Get. Out.”

Before Sam could say anything, Gabriel’s phone was in his hand and he was dialling 911.

*

A duffle of old clothes, and his ancient laptop retrieved from his desk drawer.

Sam couldn’t even look at anything else, none of it was his, not even the gifts, the new laptop, the car. Gabriel took his keys back, then slammed and locked the front door behind him, impervious to Sam’s tears and pleading, and he was in the street alone, stumbling away from the sirens wailing in the distance.

With zero options, Sam called Dean, able to do nothing but cry down the phone when his brother picked up. They must have known he wouldn’t convince Gabriel, must have been waiting, because the purr of the Impala filled his ears almost immediately and he fell sobbing into the backseat of the car.

Dean sat with him, cradling Sam’s head on his shoulder as they left San Francisco behind. Sam cried and cried and couldn’t stop crying. John was silent in the driver’s seat, fingers white as they clenched the wheel.

Dean wouldn’t shut up, patted at Sam’s hair, rubbed at his shoulder, “It’s OK, Sammy, I got you, don’t worry, don’t worry… you’re back with us! Back where you belong!”

Sam wanted to scream at them both, hated them and loved them so badly, so much, that it reduced him to crying even harder. They’d ruined his life, ruined everything, and they’d been all he could fall back on, all he had, in the end.

“I hate you. I hate you both! I’ll never forgive you!” Sam managed to choke out to his father at one point, voice a vicious snarl. John’s sad eyes stared back at him in the rear-view mirror, even as Dean kept trying to calm him.

“I know, son. I know.”


	11. Chapter 11

*Eight years later *

Sam tugged his woollen coat a little tighter around him to ward off a frigid gust of ict New York air as he trudged up the steps of his brownstone, the lower half of his face buried in the warmth of his plaid scarf.

He shook the snow off the navy wool once he was inside his apartment, hung the coat up by the door and yawned as he cranked up the heating. Winter was his favourite season in New York, and even after two years living here, he still got stupidly excited about the first snowfall of the year. But he also liked to be _warm_. 

Sam ducked into his office to lay his laptop bag down on his desk, then strolled through to the kitchen to fix himself dinner, switching on the evening news as he went. Twenty years ago, heck even ten, the news had been work – he’d been taught by his father to read between the lines, to comb the stories for potential jobs, names of figures to be exploited, businesses to target. Now, he just listened out of interest, long past needing to concentrate in order to block out those old habits.

It had taken time to get out, to _truly_ get out. But Sam had done it.

He was just taking his baked salmon out of the oven when his phone rang, and he put Dean on speaker, the phone lying on his granite countertop as he sorted out his meal.

“Hey, what’s happening?” Sam called as he unwrapped the tinfoil from around the salmon, wincing when his finger brushed the hot pan accidentally.

“Nothing, what’s up with you?”

“Not a whole lot that’s new… I won that case I mentioned to you last month!”

“Good on you! You’re on fire, Sammy!”

Sam grinned as he loaded his salmon onto a plate, then started serving up his green beans.

“Hey, so, uh, I have some news,” Dean’s tone turned nervous.

“I just asked what was going on, and you said nothing!”

“Yeah… well… look. I, uh… I got engaged!”

“What?” Sam turned and stared down at the phone, even though Dean couldn’t see him. “You _what_?”

“Yeah! Crazy, right!”

“Dean…” Sam hadn’t even known his brother was seeing anyone; they talked, but not super regularly. Too much hurt still plagued their relationship to make regularly communication feel OK.

“So, the reason I called is that we’re having an engagement party this weekend, and I want you to be here, man. I know it’s been… it’s been a tough road….”

Yeah, no shit.

All these years later, but Sam still couldn’t completely forgive his brother for what had happened in San Francisco. They both knew he never fully would.

Sam had dragged himself from the pit of despair to take his place at Stanford, a month after leaving the state in the back of the Impala. He’d moved into accommodation on campus, thrown himself headfirst into his studies, and had totally cut off contact again with his dad and brother for several years. They’d respected it, the second time around.

It had taken a long time, not until after Sam had gotten into law school, for him to start speaking to them again. Dean had gone straight not too long after that – never too far behind his brother in anything, but it had been harder for him.

John had died four years ago. Without his sons to aid and abet his ploys and schemes and plans, he’d become a more common type of criminal. He’d met his death after being caught in a shoot-out robbing a jewellery store. The news had, if anything, come as an unfathomable relief. Sam and John had made vague amends before he died, enough so that laying him in the ground wasn’t a memory Sam dwelled on with any pleasure.

John was gone, but Sam had freed himself years prior, and the resentment largely died with his father.

Dean had made something of himself too; he was now a mechanic with his own garage up in Boston and had recently bought a house that looked like a cottage from the front of a chocolate box. Sam saw him occasionally, but the distance between them, with Sam now the junior partner of a busy NY-based law firm, made it a little difficult.

It was also difficult for Sam to keep in touch with his old friends from San Francisco – not many had stayed in California, so meeting up with all of them together was hard.

Sam had initially avoided the phone calls, texts, emails from the ‘Kings’ crowd when he’d first left Gabriel’s. He hadn’t reached out to any of them until he was a few years into his law degree. Then he’d met up with them all one evening in Frisco, his first foray back into the city, and had told them the truth. He’d told them who he really was, why he’d lied, what he’d lost since he’d seen them last.

Pam had reacted with the most anger, Kevin with the largest sense of betrayal. It had taken time, but they’d forgiven him, Garth first, Jo and Benny not long after. Pam had taken the longest to get past it – loyalty and her continued friendship with Gabriel left her wounded and furious with Sam for several years.

Benny and Jo had settled in his native Louisiana and seemed to celebrate each new opening of their restaurant empire by having another baby. Pam had stayed in San Francisco, and after forgiving Sam, cheerfully called him every now and then to bawl tawdry pickup lines down the phone. Ash kept getting kicked out of MIT, then let back in again because he kept hacking their systems. Garth was still Garth. The last time Sam had seen them all had been at Kevin’s wedding, about a year ago; their friend, now a doctor, had married a lawyer – from a firm that rivalled Sam’s, because of course that’s the way things had to go.

Sam’s old boss Missouri, when Sam had called her to explain he wasn’t coming back to work, had made an unimpressed noise down the phone and hung up on him.

In terms of contact with other people from his past life, a text from an unknown number had appeared on Sam’s phone one morning at 2am, about three months into his sophomore year at Stanford. His heart had wedged itself up into his throat, the desperate need for it to be Gabriel lodging thick, even after 18 months apart. He had squinted at the lit screen, bleary-eyed and praying.

_I told you so_

Even her texts were accusatory, and Sam’s heart had sunk. He deleted it without replying and vowed to never cross paths with Bela again. He’d never needed her to point out what he’d already known, and he wasn’t about to start just when he was finally starting to get his feet back under him.

Overall, years later, life for Sam was… it was… fine. It was fine. He was fine. He wasn’t lonely, or alone. But. Well. He wouldn’t say he was happy, either.

He’d never set eyes on Gabriel again since that night, not in person, though the mogul was frequently in magazines, on TV, in the news. His company was doing exceptionally well nowadays – Sam was pretty sure Gabriel could afford to buy every house on his street back home in Frisco if he wished.

Sam didn’t know much else about him anymore, except that Gabriel had never married, not yet at least. Sam had never seen any sign of a partner or spouse on Gabriel’s arm at the award ceremonies, charity events or photoshoots he seemed to pop up at constantly. It was a comfort.

He himself rarely dated. He’d hooked up with a sweet girl at college a few times, Jess, but it hadn’t lasted with her, nor with Amelia who’d come along later. He didn’t date men often anymore – he hadn’t even slept with any man since Gabriel (he wanted the imprint of Gabriel to never fade from his body, those last memories to stay seared on his brain forever).

As Sam gaped down at the phone, he realised his food was getting cold, the oyster-sauce baked salmon losing its steam. He took a bite from his fork, leaning against the counter. Dean was gabbling away about some girl named Cas, who Sam assumed must be his fiancée – “Got the prettiest eyes, Sammy, I can’t even. Had to lock it down, you know?”

Sam made a noise of non-committal, and very carefully did not allow his thoughts to stray to eyes that looked like molten gold. 

“Right,” he muttered, when Dean huffed at his lack of response, not knowing what the fuck he was supposed to feel. “Right. You mentioned a party?”

“This weekend. Here. You can come? Small, just family, really.”

“It’s short notice, Dean…” but the little intake of breath he heard down the line did it, and Sam forced himself to shoulder on. “But sure. Sure. Yes. I’ll be there.”

“Great,” the smile in Dean’s voice was palpable. “That’s great! I can’t wait to see you, Sammy!”

Sam smiled wanly despite himself, ignoring the curl of unhappiness in his heart.

*

Sam took the train up to Boston – there was no point in owning a car in New York – and he used the trip to read over the notes his paralegal had made for him on an ongoing case (custody battle were always messy.)

His eyes hurt by the time he reached Boston, and he checked into his hotel by the station, eager for a quick nap and a shower. Once his alarm roused him, Sam dressed in a simple suit, dark blue with a white shirt, threw on his brown peacoat and took a taxi out to Dean’s house.

His brother, when he answered the door, grinned ear-to-ear, and Sam’s back got slapped half a hundred times as they embraced, Dean’s nose tucked into his neck.

“Hey, Dean.”

“Hi, Sammy.”

“Congratulations.”

“I love you, Sammy. I hope you love me enough that you’ll forgive me,” Dean squeezed his shoulders as he released him, voice gruff. Sam stared at him, confused at the sentiment, suspicion already starting to make him feel sick.

“You know I always do, in the end.”

The tension settled over them, thick; Dean’s eyes were guilty, wild.

“For what it’s worth, I only kept it from you to keep you safe, Sammy. You know I always only ever want to keep you safe. I’ve hurt you so many times, and this is probably more fuel for that fire, but I never mean to. Ever.”

Sam was saved from having to reply by the appearance of a man with startling blue eyes and spiky black hair, who cocked his head to appraise him as he approached. Dean reached back and took the guy’s hand without even looking around.

“Angel, this is my little brother. Sammy, this is Cas.”

“Oh!” Sam blinked three times in rapid succession, then pushed his shock away.

“So, it turns out I’m bi.”

“OK then. Hi, Cas,” Sam stepped properly over the threshold and shook the guy’s hand.

“Let Sam get inside, Dean, you’re letting all the warmth out,” Cas scolded, before he offered Sam a smile. “It’s good to finally meet you. Your brother talks about you frequently.”

“It’s good to meet you too.”

Cas took Sam’s coat and hung it up, then ushered Sam ahead of him and into the living room, where there was a plethora of people mingling about.

“I must say, I was relieved to find out that Dean had just the one brother. I have far too many, you see.”

“Just me to worry about,” Sam confirmed, smiling, and peering around the room. A fire was crackling in the grate, and there weren’t too many people, but Winchester blood meant blending in socially was always easy enough.

“Dean says you’re a lawyer in New York. You must work very hard. To have made your way in such a competitive field after your… unconventional, shall we say, upbringing… it’s very impressive.”

“I do my best,” Sam shrugged, accepting the bottle of beer his brother, who had been lingering behind him like an annoying shadow, pressed into his palm.

“Let me introduce you…” Cas waved in the vague direction of a group of tall men who all seemed familiar. “Some of my brothers: Zachariah, Uriel, Gadreel, Lucifer and his son Jack…”

Sam’s heart shot into his throat and several things happened at once. Jack’s blue eyes went wide, and he stepped forward with a cry of, “Uncle Campbell?”; there was a knock at the door and Sam knew exactly who it was going to be because fuck his life; Dean’s arm wound around him, pinning Sam to his side, murmuring something into his ear which sounded like a litany of apologies that could never be enough.

Slowly, because time was doing something weird to the atmosphere, Sam turned his eyes from Jack and back to the front door, which a red-haired woman was opening.

“Anna, hi! Sorry we’re late, Cassie-pants,” Gabriel called as he wandered in, talking a mile a minute with his arms waving, Ezekiel at his shoulder. “The plane had to circle because there’s this weird shit here called ‘snow’, which I fucking hate, just for the record –”

Gabriel finally shut up when he was already through into the living room, freezing to a halt on the spot and staring at Sam with a look of horror on his face that Sam was pretty sure was a direct mirror of his own.

Sam couldn’t look away.

Gabriel’s hair was longer, and he had a beard, which was weird but suited him. He was wearing his glasses and Sam wanted to ask if they were the same ones as he’d had eight years ago, they looked the same, but who ever knew, when it came to glasses and why the fuck was that the thing he was fixating on here?

Dean was mumbling, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over into Sam’s ear, and that was what broke his reverie.

“You’re always sorry, Dean. You’re always fucking sorry.”

Then Sam had thrown his brother off of him and was striding past Gabriel and back out the front door. He didn’t even pause, not stopping for Dean’s agonized cry of his name or Cas’s hand on his elbow or the red-haired woman trying to at least press his coat back into his hand.

It was fucking freezing outside, because he was in just his suit, but whatever, Sam stormed off into the night anyway. Maybe he’d freeze into a giant snowman, or a block of ice. That felt like it would be a mercy.

Fucking Boston.

Fucking Gabriel.

Fucking Dean.

Sam forged his way down the snowy sidewalk, not knowing the neighbourhood at all, his phone still in his coat pocket back at the house… he wiped snowflakes from his face and realised how badly he was shaking, that he was crying. It was dark and he had walked blindly away from the house, but who the fuck cared, right? Not him.

Then there were blinding headlights and the Impala’s purr crawling alongside him, but he kept on trudging.

“Sammy! SAMMY! SAMMY, GET BACK HERE, COME ON! GET IN THE CAR!”

Sam ignored him, but then Gabriel said “Sam?” and he stopped.

Gabriel climbed from the passenger seat with Sam’s coat in his hands and leant back to say something to Dean, who responded to him angrily.

Gabriel won, and Dean peeled away from the curb, scowl in place, leaving them alone in the dark, snowy street.

Gabriel trudged over to him, looking up at Sam like he didn’t really know what to say. Then he was holding his coat out, and Sam slid it on. There was a woman’s orange scarf too, which certainly wasn’t Sam’s, but it was warm, so he wound it about his neck.

“That’s a nice coat. Hugo Boss?” Gabriel offered, his voice awkward with tension.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Quite the turnaround from that mouldy apartment from ten years ago.”

“Yeah. Yes. I’m… I’m in New York, now. At Arthur Ketch’s law firm,” Sam didn’t need to elaborate. Everyone knew the name Ketch.

“Ah. It’s nice to be proven right. A body and a brain, didn’t I once say?”

Sam couldn’t help but smile, but Gabriel’s expression didn’t change – he just kept looking something between shocked and pleased.

“So, I take it neither of us knew about our brothers…” Sam ventured, and Gabriel shook his head before burrowing his nose into the collar of his own grey coat.

“I didn’t have a clue. Fuck it’s cold! Uh, Cas called me and said he was engaged, and I was like ‘Whaaaaaat’ and he was like ‘Come to Boston this weekend’…” Gabriel imitated his brother’s dry, gravelly voice.

“Dean didn’t say anything. I’m not sure Cas knew about us, about… how things went and how they ended. But Dean sure as hell did.”

“Your brother’s still a bit of a prick, huh?”

“He always means well,” Sam could never and would never let Dean go undefended. “But. Dean’s never been very good at being good.”

“Well,” Gabriel half shrugged at him. “It’s a heck of a coincidence.”

“It was _all_ a coincidence. All of it. You and San Francisco and the club… I didn’t hunt you; I didn’t manipulate you… I didn’t know who you were until you gave me your business card… I lied about my name, my identity, yes, but the rest was all real.”

“I spoke to Crowley, you know. After… after you left. I had to know whether it was all a ploy between you and him.”

Sam shook his head, knowing he didn’t have anything to feel guilty about in that respect, at least.

“And what did he say?”

“’Sweetie darling, perish the thought!’ Then he called me the world’s biggest dumbass and booted me out… in his defence I was pretty trashed when I went marching up to his office. I just… didn’t know what to believe. Not him, not Pam, not you…”

Gabriel looked so unsure still, and Sam had to do it, had to touch him, had to take his face in his frozen hands.

“Gabriel…”

“You broke my heart,” Gabriel told him, eyes tear bright, voice suddenly thick.

“And you broke mine. You threw me out. You told me you didn’t want me,” Sam couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice.

“You _lied_ to me for months! What was I supposed to do? How could I believe you? How could I trust you?”

“I wasn’t lying to you to _lie to you_! I tried to build a life for myself, but I couldn’t do that by keeping the Winchester name, so I made up a false identity thinking it would keep me safe, give me a fresh start. And I was wrong. I thought I could coast through under a false name, run from my past, hide from my demons… I thought the answer was to trick my way to freedom. Then you happened. God, I was going out of my mind with the guilt, panicking every second that I’d lose you. And then I did lose you.”

Gabriel’s gold eyes were sad, scared, and he started to speak but Sam stopped him. He had to keep saying it, to keep explaining.

“You _know_ I didn’t lie about loving you. You know I had no idea who you were until that second night at the club, and by then I was already falling in love with you and my lies were too deep. You know I wasn’t playing you, wasn’t using you for your money, your house, your connections, nothing. You _know –_ ”

And Gabriel was touching him back, stroking his face, his hair, his neck, and Sam couldn’t speak anymore.

“I did love you,” Gabriel told him. “Oh my God, I loved you so completely.”

Sam took a breath so shuddered that it hurt, lungs feeling frozen and empty all at once.

“And you must know I still do. I never stopped,” Gabriel stepped into his arms and kissed him, fingers interlocking behind his neck. Sam moaned and crushed him to his body, so grateful for the warmth and the relief and the hope, so desperate for eight aggrieved years of regret and pain and suffering to come to an end.

“I loved you. I’m sorry I lied, I’m so sorry!” Sam whispered to him. “I love you. There’s been no other guy, you know. Only you. I’ve missed you so much, I haven’t stopped, not for a second.”

Gabriel kissed him again and they swayed on the pavement as they clung to each other. He tasted just as good as Sam remembered, his mouth just as gentle and his tongue just as demanding. It didn’t take long, no more than a few seconds, really, before Sam fumbled in his coat pocket for his phone.

It still made him hard just kissing Gabriel, even after all this time. He dialled a taxi, squinting up and trying to read the street signs through the snow to figure out where they were, all while Gabriel licked and sucked at his neck and Sam was pretty sure he was moaning down the line to the dispatcher but God he just didn’t give a _fuck_.

There was a taxi, eventually, warm and dry inside, and Gabriel had to pin Sam’s wrists to the seat between them to stop him from grabbing at him. Sam whined for him, but Gabriel kissed the back of his hands and murmured, “Be patient, baby boy,” and Sam immediately went still, not realising until then how badly he still loved being obedient.

“I love you,” Gabriel told him, once they were scrambling out of the car and through the front door of whatever the fancy-ass hotel was that Gabriel was staying at.

“I love you,” was kissed along Sam’s collarbone, his coat and jacket pushed open and his shirt rapidly losing buttons even though the elevator hadn’t even started moving yet, Gabriel, _Jesus Christ_.

“I love you,” was murmured into his hair as Gabriel fumbled with the key to the door of the penthouse suite, while Sam tried to fuse himself to his back and nipped at his neck, then mumbled the words in return.

“I love you,” was whispered against every inch of skin as Gabriel stripped him, eased him back onto the bed, hovered over him, all hands and bare skin and mouth, that fucking _mouth_.

Sam, for his part, whimpered and thrashed and sobbed it back as often as it was told to him, his emotions all over the place. He felt exhausted and euphoric all at once. He’d dreamed of having this again for so long, had missed Gabriel so desperately, loved him so much after all this time…

He just about cried in relief when Gabriel finally took his mouth and fingers away from Sam’s hole and asked him if he was ready. He actually did cry when Gabriel pressed inside, the delight too overwhelming.

Gabriel took his face in his hands as he fucked him slow and deep, told him, “I love you. I love you. I love you,” over and over, the whole time.

He didn’t stop saying it even when he came, panted it through his gritted teeth as he sunk them into Sam’s shoulder. He didn’t stop saying it even when he let his hand fall to Sam’s cock, which he pumped with an almost intense urgency, eyes boring into Sam’s as he watched him fall apart.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so much, my baby, my baby boy,” Gabriel murmured, as Sam arched his back and his body coiled itself up tight and everything was so much, so bright, Gabriel, more, please, always, _Gabriel_ –

Gabriel whispered it into Sam’s ear again, when they were clinging to each other, the sweat and cum starting to dry and stick. Sam just sighed in delight as he turned his head, nosed at Gabriel’s cheek in reply.

“I love you too,” Sam told him, sleepy and sated. Even though Gabriel’s face was pressed into the pillow, Sam could still see his smile, beaming and perfect and happy, and it was all he could ever need.

*

Later, Sam will call Dean, and he’ll yell, and Dean will yell back, because he was pretty much permanently defensive and guilty when it came to his little brother. Dean will explain that he was only trying to help; Sam will tell him that he is full of shit, when had Dean ever helped anyone but himself? Dean will roar that he knew Sam wouldn’t have shown up to the party if he’d told him Cas was a Novak, and that Gabriel would be attending. Sam will scream back that once again, Dean was proving he didn’t know anything at all about him, really, in the end, did he?

Gabriel will linger, wincing and trying to stroke Sam’s shoulders to calm him down, and Cas will probably be doing something similar for Dean, because Dean will go quiet for a long time.

Then Dean will say, “No, you’re right, I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand why you were running, what you were trying to do. I didn’t understand why you didn’t want me, why you cut us off, why you were always so _angry_. Then I met Cas, and I finally understood you, for the first time in 29 years, I finally understood you so perfectly. I finally understood what freedom felt like, what happiness and safety and love really was. Sammy, I’m _sorry_.”

It will take a little while, a few weeks of silence, and a few more weeks of arguments screamed down the phone, but Sam will forgive Dean. He always forgives Dean.

Sam and Gabriel will spend the following day in the penthouse suite bed, then both will go back to the lives they were trying to live without each other. They’ll do long distance for a few months, and the phone sex will be great, and there will be many red-eye flights back and forth as they grow close again, make up for lost time, help each other work through the immense hurt they’ve both been carrying for so many years.

But after a while it will just get too painful, too unnecessary to be apart, so Sam will hand in his notice to Ketch and go home to San Francisco, to that behemoth of a house with the koi pond under the stairs and his Dodge still in the garage. He’ll get a partnership at a firm that specialises in environmental law, and it will feel good, right, like home.

Dean and Cas will marry in September of the following year, in a fucking orchard in Vermont, of all places. Sam will try to calm his brother’s nerves before the ceremony, and Dean will clutch at him, right there in front of all the guests, fingers curling into his tux, because he misses their parents and is heart-broken they aren’t there, and he’s missed Sam too and is so happy that he is.

Sam will rub Dean’s back until his eyes dry out, then help him drink from his hipflask and straighten his bowtie.

“You’ll always be my brother,” Sam will tell him. “You’ll always be the first person I ever loved.”

Dean will start crying all over again.

Gabriel will make bedroom eyes at Sam all through the ceremony, until Sam will have to stop looking at him because he’s doing it on freaking purpose, he _knows_ what it does to Sam when he smirks like that, and those fucking glasses…

And during the reception, Sam and Gabriel will dance and drink, probably too much, but who cares, it’s a wedding. And then they will stumble off to their room, carefree and in love and kissing the whole time and Sam will say I love you, I love you, I love you as Gabriel fucks him rough and clumsy and Gabriel will make him look him in the eyes as he comes apart, _look at me, baby, look at me, let me see that face, that’s it, God I love you so much_ …

But that’s later.

Because right now, in that warm penthouse suite in Boston, with snow falling thick in the air outside and Gabriel plastered to his side, Sam Winchester doesn’t know about any of that.

He kissed Gabriel slowly, memorising it all over again, even though he’d never allowed himself to forget.

Gabriel was watching him when Sam pulled back, gold eyes fond as his hand swept Sam’s hair back from his face, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking about how badly we need to get up and get clean before we stick together. Why, what are you thinking?” Sam forced himself to sit up as he spoke, his skin already feeling tacky and gross.

“I’m thinking about how I’ve never regretted anything more in my whole life than sending you away. Letting you go. Not telling you I loved you sooner.”

Sam sighed, soothed a hand down Gabriel’s shoulder, but before he could say anything to comfort him, Gabriel sat up too, that same old mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Except for that you never kept that cowboy outfit from the club. I absolutely regret _that_ most of all –”

Gabriel dissolved into laughter and ran for the shower as Sam groaned and threw a pillow at his head, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

They’ll make it, together.

And even more than that, Sam had finally gotten what he’d hoped for, longed for, fought for, after so many years.

Gabriel called out to him from the shower, voice teasing over the noise of the spray, and Sam clambered up to join him. He wound himself around Gabriel’s warm, wet body and pressed his face down into his neck, letting his eyes drift shut at the comfort of Gabriel’s hands stroking his back, his shoulders, his hair.

Sam Winchester was happy and in love and safe and finally free.


End file.
